


Unsuitable

by burntotears



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Magic Revealed, Series 2 Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur have never felt so close or so far from one another.  Trials of heart, character and mind will bring about sorrow to all those who are involved.  Most importantly, Merlin will find out just what it takes to make a person truly good and Arthur will know what it means to be torn between a love of a father, a love of a friend, and a love of a kingdom.</p><p>{ Spoilers through Series 2 }</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Equitably Unsuitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has not taken the time to dwell on all the things that have plagued Camelot and his role in them. He takes to sulking about and Arthur tries his best to be a friend to Merlin whilst also digging for the truth about Merlin's gift with magic.

If there was one thing Merlin despised most about his, erm, _unique_ personality, it was his complete inability to hide his emotional distress from others.

He severely lacked the skill and mindset to make himself a stone-faced mannequin who gave away little information as to the whereabouts of his train of thoughts, something Arthur, Morgana and even Gwen managed with such ease it was almost frightening to Merlin and made him feel more alien amongst his friends than he already felt amongst the important people of Camelot.

And Merlin was finding it increasingly more difficult to parry Arthur's barrage of annoying and unfairly adept questions— "And just where exactly did the dragon go after I dealt it this fatal blow, Merlin?" "How were you alone left standing when all the other knights and myself were struck down, Merlin?" — so that half of his time spent in Arthur's presence summated to Merlin biting his bottom lip and cringing with exasperation when Arthur bared down on him again with another fit of disturbingly probing inquiries, some of which were getting far too close to uncovering Merlin's best kept secret.

Merlin was also painfully aware of Arthur's continued attempts at this friendly façade, despite their hierarchal relationship, which Merlin could not pretend as if it did not make his heart skip that Arthur was actually attempting to treat them as (at least as much as was possible between a prince and a servant) equals. Unfortunately his timing could not be any worse as Merlin was not in the mood to indulge Arthur.

To put it bluntly, Merlin was being assaulted with too many emotions for one young man to function properly and it was beginning to wear on him physically now. The memory of his father's last act to save his son whom he'd only known for a number of hours haunted his every sleeping night and the worry that Arthur was beginning to put the pieces together pervaded his waking hours. Merlin took on an automatous persona that everyone commented on to each other but no one could bring himself to talk to Merlin personally. This suited the young man just fine because as far as Merlin was concerned, the less he talked to Arthur, the less likely it would be that Arthur would finally drag the truth out of him.

As always, Merlin underestimated Arthur's persistence to get what he wanted. There were times when Merlin would willingly talk and joke around with Arthur and Arthur would want nothing to do with him. But now that the tables were turned and Arthur wanted Merlin's company, he wasn't going to stop pestering Merlin until he got the answers he was searching for. Merlin would not mind if he knew what exactly Arthur was trying to find and because he didn't, this awkward dance was far too risky to take part in.

Unfortunately for Merlin, Arthur was the prince and Merlin was his manservant and that meant Arthur could pull rank on him whenever he saw fit and of course Arthur deemed this a most crucial time to remind Merlin just whom he was.

"Merlin, as the prince and future king of Camelot, I order you to tell me why you've been moping about as though you do not have the best job in all of the kingdom. There are many blokes who would willing take your place at any time and I may just entertain the idea if you don't stop acting like such a sad sack of shite."

Merlin shrugged his shoulders and grunted as if that settled matters entirely. He continued to scrub Arthur's armour, though he had been scrubbing the same immaculately polished spot for the last fifteen minutes.

"Merlin! I am the bloody prince and you have to answer me when I address you!" Arthur's heart wasn't in the comment, which meant that Merlin didn't actually have to answer him.

He did mumble, "yes sire," half-heartedly and Arthur finally gave up and left Merlin alone and sulking in his chambers. Merlin knew it wouldn't be the end but he was happy for the reprieve.

\-----

"Merlin, can you take this potion to Lord Brickenden on your way to the castle?" Gaius asked of Merlin as he trudged his way sleepily toward the table to eat his porridge before he was to meet Arthur on the practice grounds for a mock-battle with the other knights. It was going to run most of the day and Merlin wasn't looking forward to it, not that he was particularly looking forward to anything as of late.

Merlin rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye and then yawned. "Today is the mock-battle so I won't be going to the castle until noon when the knights break for lunch," he said while spooning some porridge into his mouth.

He heard Gaius curse, saying, "I had forgotten. No matter, Merlin, I'll go there myself when I've finished here. Have you packed some cheese and bread for yourself?"

Merlin seemed to have not heard what Gaius had asked because a couple of minutes later Gaius said sharply, "Merlin!" and the young man jumped, causing his chair to slip from beneath him and as Merlin grasped at the table to keep from falling on his arse, his hand tipped the porridge bowl and it would have splattered into his face if he hadn't stopped it all from happening. Well he'd only managed to save his breakfast; his backside still collided harshly with the floor. He grunted, upturning his porridge bowl onto the table once more and roughly gathering up his chair and plopping back into it. After all this, Merlin had forgotten what caused all this to happen in the first place.

Gaius was unimpressed and sat across from Merlin at the table. "Merlin, what is troubling you so?" Merlin heard him this time, but he tried pointedly ignoring him.

"Is it your father?" Gaius asked, knowing fully well this would spark Merlin's attention. As suspected Merlin's head shot up and he looked at Gaius with a sort of hatred he would never normally convey toward the old man. The anger flashed away as quickly as it had come, but Gaius noticed it and retreated from the conversation, leaving Merlin equally angry and ashamed of himself.

When Merlin had finished getting dressed to leave the house, he found Gaius had packed him the cheese and bread he'd asked about, which did not lighten his mood any. This was probably the worst possible start to his day, which was only going to get worse as the sun drove its way higher into the cloudless sky.

Arthur was all smiles when Merlin walked toward Uther's knights queuing on the practice field. Arthur's happiness fueled a stirring of uneasiness inside Merlin's chest. He rubbed his palm over his face. This day was turning out to be entirely too long already and the men hadn't even started sparring yet.

Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder as he approached, so roughly he almost knocked Merlin face-first into the dirt. Arthur chuckled lowly, but cut off quickly when he saw that Merlin was not smiling. "Alright mate?" Arthur asked, looking intently into Merlin's eyes. Merlin's stomach flopped uneasily under Arthur's gaze and he was fairly certain this was _not_ the reaction Arthur was trying to entice from him. If Merlin were not completely submerged in his own self pity, he would have marveled at Arthur's use of the word 'mate,' and grinned at his (_friend?_) charge with elated satisfaction.

As it were, Merlin was drowning himself in a self-made porridge of degradation and took no delight in Arthur attempting (once again) to show interest in the feelings of his fumbling manservant. Merlin said nothing in return to Arthur's question, though he did hold the other man's eyes for what was apparently an uncomfortable amount of time, because he could now hear the clinking of chainmail and armor as the other knights shifted around and coughed indiscreetly. This broke Arthur's focus and he walked away from Merlin and plastered a grin on his face for his knights, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Merlin had seen these men doing this very activity so many times he should probably have been able to spar quite well himself. Merlin's hand-eye coordination was complete rubbish, however, and though he could successfully protect himself with a sword for a short amount of time if the need presented itself, he would never defeat another man in a sword fight—at least not a fair fight that included no magical interference on his part.

On more than one occasion the men had made Merlin join them for some half-cocked sparring joviality, in which Merlin always ended up in the dirt on his arse glaring daggers at the knights, who laughed heartily and helped him to his feet and quelled his anger just as quickly as they had raised it. Today was not one of the days that Merlin wanted to play knight and he was hoping that his annoyed expression and stiff posture would convey this to the knights who seemed entirely too cheerful to Merlin.

As the men broke off into partners, Merlin found his gaze drifting from one pair to the next, contemplating which man had the upper hand in each couple. Arthur had never been bested by any of the knights, but there were a few that held strong against the prince, even if they did fall short in the end. Merlin let his eyes settle upon Arthur, watching as the man instructed his partner at how he could better parry Arthur's blows and showed him stronger stances and swifter swings. Eventually Arthur had them all switch partners to keep them fresh and on their toes and he forwent his own partner in order to walk through the other groups and instruct them as best he could.

Merlin had never seen Uther fight nor had he ever seen him instruct the knights, but he was fairly certain that Arthur's father did not have the patience and understanding that his son did to keep these men continually challenged but also happy to be doing what they were doing. This was no slight on Uther—rather it augmented the fact that Uther had given a prodigious effort in raising not only a fair and compassionate man, but also a brilliant and inspiring new leader for Camelot. Though it may not have been his intention, the king, through Arthur, had secured the kingdom a better future than he himself could offer.

If Merlin held up the image he had had of Arthur when he first met him against the man he knew Arthur to be now, he could easily see how Arthur improved and bettered himself every day in the face of adversity and change. This quality was something that his father lacked and this was the reason, above all else, that Arthur would be both a better man and a better ruler than his father. In fact, in Merlin's opinion, Arthur had already succeeded in the former.

As though he could feel that Merlin was thinking about him, Arthur's gaze drifted toward Merlin, who was propped up against the sword rack, fingering a piece of grass as if it were a precious jewel. Merlin was not even entirely aware of the fact that he was staring at Arthur with unblinking focus, which was probably why Arthur's eyebrows crept up ever so slightly on his forehead. Eventually he offered Merlin a small, almost private smile that Merlin found himself returning without recognition that he was doing so. This was Merlin's greatest mistake; this was apparently the reassurance that Arthur had been searching for and opened up the opportunity for Arthur to pester Merlin even more mercilessly than he had been previously.

Arthur draped his arm, heavy from the weight of the chainmail, across Merlin's shoulders as they made their way back to Arthur's chambers after the sparring had ended. "See Merlin, I knew you were not enjoying being such a miserable sod, so out with it already. What's got your knickers in a knot?"

Merlin looked incredulously at Arthur, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be sulking. This look obviously pleased Arthur because his smirk was almost too smug to even be considered natural on any one person's face. "Now now, don't go looking slighted. If you'd just tell me the problem we could all move on with our lives."

As they entered Arthur's chambers, Merlin turned to Arthur and retorted, "The only person that is investing such irrational interest in my woes is you, Arthur Pendragon." Merlin smiled, only a slight upturn in the corner of his mouth, but noticeable enough that Arthur laughed heartily.

"So you admit that you have woes, Merlin—this is good. The next step is to get out with what they are so that I can reassure you and you can get back to being my source of amusement." Arthur went to stand in his usual place so that Merlin could undress his armour.

He would never admit it, but Arthur was actually cheering him up, however reluctant Merlin might be. "How unsurprisingly arrogant of you to assume you could solve any problems I might have, _sire_." This landed Merlin the same incredulous look from Arthur that Merlin was just wearing moments ago.

"I take great insult from that, Merlin. To assume one is brilliant in all matters of the heart, mind and body is to be arrogant, but to actually _be_ astute in all these areas is just pure factual information." Earlier in their comradery, Merlin would have been certain Arthur truly believed himself to be all these things, but having spent enough time with the other man had shown Merlin that Arthur had insecurities just like anyone else.

Merlin had finally removed all of Arthur's outer armour and was helping him out of his chainmail when he sniggered at Arthur's ridiculous statement. When the prince's face emerged from beneath the chain mail, however, his face was quite serious. "Merlin, what has been bothering you? Is it Balinor?"

Merlin tried to compose his face and his breathing at the mention of his father. He knew for certain that Arthur only meant the circumstance in which Merlin had seen the man die, but sometimes he felt as though Arthur really could read him better than he let on.

"Merlin," Arthur spoke, placing a hand on the slender man's shoulder. "It was not your fault. You didn't force him in front of that blade." Arthur knew now that Balinor—his father—had sacrificed himself to let Merlin live. These smaller details always surfaced whenever they had recapped their many unfortunate adventures. "He acted of his own free will and he obviously felt that saving your life was much nobler than letting you fall. I understand your guilt, but you have to be grateful that he ensured you another day to live or his sacrifice was in vain." Arthur, of course, had had many a man sacrifice his life to save the prince and he had long since learned that he could not dwell on the guilt.

What Arthur said was true, of course, but he did not know just how dear Balinor had really been to the young warlock. Arthur was still looking at Merlin, waiting for some sign that his words had hit home.

"You're right. Thanks Arthur," Merlin replied and he _was_ truly grateful that Arthur cared enough to worry about his problems. And while his words did not really ease the guilt that twisted at Merlin's subconscious every night, it did make him appreciate Arthur a little more than he did before.

Arthur squeezed Merlin's shoulder and then released it, giving Merlin a sad and knowing smile. Merlin was still just standing there and Arthur laughed, making note that Merlin was failing miserably at undressing his armour at the moment. An awkward laugh escaped Merlin's lips and he went back to putting away the armour.

When Merlin had finished filling the tub for Arthur to take a bath, he was going to take his leave so that Arthur could bathe in peace, but Arthur stopped him with a drawl of Merlin's name, which put all of the paler man's senses on alert. Arthur was going to ask him questions again. He stood in the doorframe with his fingernails digging half moons into his palms, his back so rigid he could serve as a perfectly straight board. "Yes, sire?" He could take solace in the fact that at least Arthur was facing in the other direction and could not see his reaction.

"Tell me again what happened when I was knocked out by the dragon." Arthur tried to make it sound as though he was asking for a retelling of a favoured bedtime story. Unfortunately Arthur was a bit too transparent when he was trying to pry information from someone. Actually, Merlin was not at all certain that Arthur was even trying to conceal this fact.

Merlin allowed himself to lean against the wall near the door, hoping this would relieve some of the tension that was radiating through his body. "There's nothing to tell, really. I mean, like I told you before, after you wounded him, he took flight and within minutes he dropped from the sky." Though his story had not changed since he told it to Arthur the first five times, he knew that it was not satisfying Arthur's suspicion.

"Right," drawled Arthur again, rubbing soap over his arms. Merlin found himself looking at the back of Arthur's neck, tracing the lines where his shoulders began and down the slope of his bicep to his forearm. Merlin was studying the protrusion of Arthur's spine, tracing from the neck down, down, down, "But the thing is, Merlin…no body was found when the men searched the forest."

Arthur's voice brought Merlin back into the room and he shook his head and looked at Arthur's bed instead of the naked man in the bathing tub. Sometimes, he knew, Arthur liked to get out of his bath and crawl into his bed completely nude and now Merlin could see a faint outline of a blond haired man lying in those luxurious sheets—"Merlin!"

"What? Sorry, what sire?" Merlin rubbed his eyes as if that would erase the image from his mind.

Arthur turned to look at Merlin then, giving him the standard 'do you have extraneous hearing problems, you unbelievably thick dolt' look and finally turned back around and continued washing himself.

"They never found a body, Merlin. What happened to the body if the dragon is dead?" Merlin wanted to groan, but doing that would probably not serve to support his innocence in the matter. He let his legs slip forward from underneath him so that he was sitting now, leaning against the wall, so close to the door where he could escape from having this conversation once again.

"I told you, Arthur," Merlin said, annoyance only colouring his words in hopes that Arthur would take it as a sign that Merlin had nothing to hide and was tired of repeating the same answers to the same bloody questions over and over again. "Dragons are practically brimming with magic and Gaius said their bodies don't decompose like humans. He probably evaporated into dust and blew away in the wind." Okay so it sounded entirely lame, even to Merlin, but Arthur's knowledge of magic was naught, thanks to Uther's ignorance in trying to pretend something that most certainly existed, did not, in fact, exist at all.

"Magic…probably…right…" Came Arthur's reply, utterly disbelieving. Merlin pretended that Arthur did not seem to draw out the word 'magic' as an accusation against him. _Arthur has no idea_, he reassured himself, but Merlin knew as well as anyone that Arthur was not as blind as Uther was.

"Have you ever noticed," Arthur said suddenly, with such a different tone that Merlin thought he had decided to change the subject. He couldn't help but feel wholly relieved at this notion, "that every time we fell a foe of magical inclination, I somehow am unconscious or looking the other way when that miraculous blow is made? Yet you are always there, insisting that I had everything to do with bringing it about. Have you noticed that, Merlin?"

Merlin glared at the back of Arthur's head, imagining himself throwing a particularly heavy candlestick at it and rendering the blond man unconscious right then just to spite him. Both he and Gaius had feared the day when Arthur would piece these things together, because they knew it was only a matter of time. Upon that circumstance, Merlin was going to find out if Arthur truly was more progressive than his father. And now the day was finally dawning that Merlin was no longer going to be able to flightily explain away all the occasions in which Arthur had done things that he truly had not done and expect him to still believe him.

But Merlin wasn't ready. Not yet. Not ever. He would rather go to his grave swearing that Arthur was too thick to see the truth behind Merlin's actions. He supposed that he had not noticed it before, but what really seemed to wrench the unbelievable knotting pain in his stomach was the thought of Arthur rejecting him when he finally figured it out. Yes, Arthur would be a better king than Uther ever was, but that did not mean that Arthur was any less adverse to magic than his father was. Merlin had heard Arthur's words all too clearly after Morgause had 'enlightened' Arthur about his birth. Merlin could remember exactly where each word had stabbed into his heart and pierced into his very soul. _It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous. And that is thanks to you._

"No, Arthur. I've never noticed anything like that," Merlin spoke, voice as even and collected as he could manage, but he had to wipe a hand at his eyes to disperse the water that was pooling in them. He stood up and said pointedly, "Shall I take my leave, sire, so you may finish your bath? I will return when you are ready for me to turn down the bed."

Arthur sat still as he listened to Merlin leave the room and he leaned back against the metal of the tub, sighing audibly. He was still waiting for Merlin to tell him the truth and he was beginning to see that no matter how much he hinted that he already knew, his _friend_ was never going to be honest with him. Arthur knew that this should have no bearing on his heart, but he couldn't deny the hurt he felt when Merlin again found him unsuitable to bear the knowledge of his gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme song for the first installment of _Unsuitable_ was "I'd Come For You" by Nickelback. The lovely [apinae](http://apinae.livejournal.com/profile) made a [fantastic fan video](http://apinae.livejournal.com/6910.html) with this song that helped set the mood for Part One, so I dedicate this piece to her.


	2. Ardently Unsuitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin becomes mortified when the true weight of his recent decisions grapples at his heart. He finally allows himself to become lost within his own desolation, but Arthur will not leave him to suffer on his own.

As the door to Arthur's chambers closed behind him, Merlin felt as though his chest had caught fire and was slowly burning him from the inside. He stumbled down the corridor aimlessly, his breathing now a laborious act. His vision seemed to be failing him because everything in front of him blurred and tilted at angles that were impossible to navigate. After only a few minutes of courseless staggering, Merlin's feet gave up on their feeble attempt to propel him forward and he fell on his knees, the collision with the stone floor sending an acute shock of pain up his thighs that did not stop until it had reached his flamed chest. Merlin clutched uselessly at his tunic as though his hands might hold the power to douse the blaze within. The only part of Merlin's body that was still working at full capacity was his mind, which now tortured him mercilessly with all the things he tried his hardest to never think about.

He felt like screaming in an attempt to clear his mind from the demons that plagued it, but all he could manage was to tug feebly at his hair and sob so violently he could feel spittle mix with the salty tears that rained from his chin and pounded craters into the thighs of his trousers. He could spend the rest of his life there, crumpled on the floor of that castle corridor, reliving every recent horror he'd experienced and predicting the nightmares that still awaited him.

"Merlin?" came a musical voice, emitting a light so bright he knew it could only belong to an angel. The angel's voice waivered into impetuous concern when she spoke his name again and he only half-acknowledged that it was actually Guinevere who was talking to him. He barely felt the hand that she placed on his shoulder as she knelt down next to him and she started to shake him, trying to elicit some sort of reaction from him. He wished he knew what she wanted from him, but he was fairly certain that whatever it was, he couldn't provide it.

Guinevere's voice sounded muffled, like she was speaking to him from the other side of a heavy door. It was not until she pulled his head up between her hands, forcing him to look at her kaleidoscopic face that his brain finally processed some of the words she was saying. "…something…to Arthur?" He looked into her eyes in an attempt to find the meaning of her intermittent sentence. When he did not say anything, however, she repeated herself and he heard, "Merlin, has something happened to Arthur?"

As Merlin processed her words, he felt a spark inside his mind ignite. The fuse in his brain was burning quickly and when it reached the end, anger exploded in his skull so hot and distinct that it instantly cleared the haze around him and his focus sharpened to a point he could have easily stabbed her with. This woman, this person who was supposed to be his _friend_, did not care at all what ailed him. Guinevere only concerned herself with the welfare of Arthur, as if Merlin did not exist—as if it were not Merlin, but Arthur, sobbing uncontrollably on the floor.

His arms moved up and knocked her hands away from his face as he stood, no longer dizzy. He did not answer her, he just started to run as fast as he could force himself to move to get as far as he could away from her, away from Arthur, away from Camelot.

Merlin had never felt so wholly and austerely alone. He had _finally_ felt as though he belonged somewhere, that he had a purpose and that he had been gifted with magic to safeguard the people of this land a fair and benign future king. Merlin had finally begun to believe the dragon, Kilgharrah, was telling him the truth; he and Arthur were intertwined in a destiny that only Merlin could ensure. He did not think to do so before, but now, after losing what seemed to be so much, he asked himself the question: _At what cost?_ He already knew the answer; it was brimming in him now as he ran and it spilled out as he breeched the gate of the castle walls—_everything._

Arthur was pulling on his trousers when he heard the small but sharp knock against his door. _Merlin?_ He was fairly certain it wasn't him, because it didn't sound like a knock Merlin would make. He said, "come in," wondering to himself how he would have any idea how to _identify_ the knocks of his servant. He would have continued to toy with the ludicrousness of what he'd just thought, but the door to his chambers flew open so fast that the wood reverberated off the stone wall and started to close again.

Arthur's face shot up and he moved instinctively, almost halfway to his sword when he saw that it was Guinevere standing in the doorway. "Guine—" he began, but she cut him off before he could finish.

"Arthur! Oh thank goodness! I was so afraid…I thought you had…oh _wow_," she rambled and sat down in a chair near the door, trying to catch her breath as she clung to her chest. Normally she wouldn't have sat down inside the prince's chambers without invitation or permission, but she wasn't thinking very straight just then.

Guinevere seemed too preoccupied with whatever it was that had startled her that she hadn't seen Arthur's look of concern at her present state. "Guinevere, what is it? Has something happened? Are you alright?" He took a few steps toward her but then faltered and didn't move any closer than a metre from where she sat. His immediate worry was something had happened to Morgana but then he reminded himself that she wasn't even in the castle anymore so Guinevere couldn't know of how she was doing at all. When she did not reply to him, he spoke her name again, a bit sharper this time, and that seemed to gather her attention.

"Oh my lord," she replied, shooting up out of the chair as though it were on fire. Her head made a familiar bow to him and she apologized for herself. "I'm so sorry, sire, I didn't even think—"

"Yes, yes, Gwen, its quite alright. Please, tell me what is the matter." He felt anxious and it bothered him that his first thoughts were of an imposing doom to Camelot. "Sit down if you please, Gwen," he added as an afterthought. He grabbed a tunic from the wardrobe and pulled it over his head, feeling inappropriately dressed in the company of a woman inside his chambers.

Guinevere seemed to take this as a command and she fell back into the chair as quickly as she had evacuated it. Finally, after what seemed like ages to Arthur, she spoke. "Well I…I thought something might have happened to you, sire."

His brow furrowed. "How do you mean? Why would you have thought this?"

"Well because…" she looked almost ashamed. "Because of Merlin."

Arthur felt something stir in his stomach. "What of him?"

"Well I came across him in the corridor. He was distraught."

"Distraught?" Arthur wished she would be more specific than she was being.

"Yes, he was on his knees…sobbing. He was so out of sorts it didn't seem as if he could understand me when I spoke to him. Finally I lifted his face up to look at me and I asked him if everything was alright with Ar—with you and…" She trailed off again.

"And?" he coaxed, feeling as though he was talking to a child.

"And I could have sworn—it looked as though his eyes had changed colour. It was obviously my imagination but he had this wild, almost crazed, look in his eyes that I'd never seen from the likes of him before."

Arthur nodded and gathered a pair of boots from the corner and began to pull them on. "Is he still there?"

"No, sire," she responded.

He looked at her face. "Do you know where he went?"

"No, my lord. He just…he just ran off, like he was trying to get away from me. He ran off so fast, I…"

Arthur unconsciously started lacing his boots as quickly as possible. He went to his wardrobe to grab an overcoat, yanking at it with frustration when he couldn't get it out right away. "Thank you Guinevere. I will see if I can find him. If you run into him again, would you come and find me?"

Guinevere stood and bowed. "Of course, my lord." She left him as he was throwing on his overcoat. He looked left and right down the corridor outside his chambers and saw Guinevere retreating down the right side, so he went left. The first path he could think to take was outside of the castle and to Gaius' house. When he was walking through the side entryway, however, a guard looked at him quizzically. "My lord," he spoke and bowed his head. "Is everything alright?"

Arthur only comprehended about half of what the man was saying. "Have you seen my servant, Merlin, come through here?"

The guard nodded. "Yes sire, he ran past us a while ago. He looked…sick."

Arthur hadn't been too worried, but after hearing that Merlin looked crazy and sick, he was worried now. Something uneasy was clenching in his stomach. "Did he go to the court physician's residence?"

"No sire. He ran straight for the castle gate," replied the guard, pointing at the gate stupidly, as though Arthur wouldn't know where it was.

Arthur did not stand there any longer. He began to sprint toward the guards that defended the gate. When he reached them, they looked at him oddly, but bowed their heads. "Have you seen my servant come through here?"

The guard Arthur spoke to looked toward the man on the other side of the gate and then at the prince again. "That scrawny Merlin bloke?" he asked.

Arthur felt himself getting impatient. "Yes my servant, you idio—" he started but he bit back the insult. It wasn't as though it was this man's fault that Arthur was in such a frenzy, but exactly how many people did he see running about the kingdom at night in a crazed disposition that he would have to ask him which particular man it was that the prince was referring to?

"Erm, yes, my lord. He passed us a while ago," said the second guard. Then he added, a bit dumbly, "He was running."

Arthur had to resist a sudden urge to grab these men by the throats and shake them uncontrollably. "Yes, obviously. Where did he _go_, though?"

The guard pointed toward the forest to the east of the castle gate. "He ran toward the forest and straight into it."

Arthur followed the man's finger with his gaze, expecting to see Merlin running across the field but he saw nothing but stillness. He stood there for a few moments, the knot in his chest growing at a rapid pace, and then he wrenched the torch from the wall beside the first guard. He looked at him and said, "You, grab a torch and come with me."

The man seemed taken aback but knew better than to question the prince's orders and followed Arthur with another torch. Arthur was quiet as they walked a few metres then he said, "We're going to split up. Remember his name is Merlin. If you come across him, whistle three times successionally so that I can find you. Understand?"

"Yes sire," replied the guard and he began walking in the direction in which Arthur had pointed. Arthur walked the opposite way from him. _Merlin_, he thought, _I swear, if you turn up dead I'm going to bloody kill you. _

Time began to lose its meaning to Merlin. He had no idea how long he had been sitting here, in the repressing darkness, within the confines of the forest that hemmed the castle walls of Camelot.

He could only vaguely recall that Guinevere had spoken to him just minutes before. His mind seemed bent on torturing him. His thoughts strayed from Guinevere to Morgana, the only other person Merlin knew well that had magic like he did.

_Had magic_, he told himself. She had _had_ it, right before he poisoned her.

Merlin shook his head fervently, hoping to shake away that image. He felt a cold seeping in through his trousers beneath him. He was sitting on an old, rotting log that was damp from the day's rain, but this wasn't occupying any of his thoughts.

Instead he saw Morgana's pale face in front of him, her body twisting in the damp leaf litter of the forest floor, as clearly as the day he had poisoned her. He watched her gasping, clutching at her throat, her attempts to breathe going unheeded by her own body. He could feel his arms wrap around her warm shoulders, feel the shake in them as she rasped and choked. Merlin felt the soft satin of her hair brushing his cheek, his chin and the clutch of her hands—strong at first, but fading quickly—on his arms. He felt her go limp within the circle of his hold and saw her lifeless face as Morgause held the debilitated woman to her breast, yelling at him without sound. He could focus on nothing but Morgana's blanched face—her eyes rolling in her head—as if he were being forced to look only at the woman he had so easily slipped poison to. It was so easy, _so damned easy_ for him to do it. He hadn't hesitated, even when he had imagined what he was going to have to do to her, even as he watched her bring the poisoned water skin to her lips.

The horror and the confusion that he saw in her face as the poison seeped into her veins was similar to that which he had seen on her when she had discovered her magic. He knew intimately the fear and worry that enveloped her brain when she realised she had these powers, when she realised she was different, strange, _wrong_. How could he have done this to Morgana? How could he so easily destroy someone who might very well have just been confused and scared and had not had the ill intensions of murdering Uther Pendragon? How could he poison someone who may have been under the spell of Morgause to begin with?

Though Morgause apparently had some sort of affection for Morgana, Merlin would never know if she had been able to save Morgana in time or not. She might very well be dead because of what he did. No one else, not even Arthur, knew that Morgana was dying when Morgause took her away. Merlin would have to live with not knowing whether he was a murderer or not. How could he do that? How could anyone live knowing that he'd caused the death of another, and even worse, the death of another he truly cared about?

Merlin had not had the time to dwell on this before, because Kilgharrah had begun attacking Camelot not long after the Knights of Medhir had been disposed by Morgause. He was so busy worrying about the second mistake he had made within the last few days to even begin to think about how horrible he truly was. He may not know if he murdered Morgana, but he knew for certain that he had murdered many innocent people in Camelot because he had freed the dragon. If he had just been smarter, known more about how magic worked, then he would have been able to solve these problems on his own and not resort to making a deal with a dragon. He would not have brought about more turmoil to Camelot because he was too stupid to solve his problems by himself. Even knowing now that he had control over the dragon, it did nothing to bring back the people he had allowed to die from his own incompetence.

He was a _murderer_. He walked around as if saving Arthur's life more than one time somehow excused the fact that he had brought about the deaths of many innocent people—people who belonged to the very kingdom Merlin was trying to secure a great future for. He had _deserved_ to die and he should have died back there in the forest when they made their way to Camelot with Balinor. Balinor had made the mistake of sacrificing himself so that Merlin could live on, so that a murderer could continue to be free. He hated his father for saving his life. He _hated_ him.

Merlin sat on the log, cradling his head in his arms, gripping his hair tightly and rocking back and forth like a scared child. The emptiness that he felt in the corridor had only grown in intensity, scorching a hole in his chest that seemed to burn him open until he was engulfed, enveloped into a black nothingness that gave him no reprieve from his thoughts. He could do nothing but watch as his mistakes destroyed families, ruined livestock, dismantled a kingdom. None of this would have ever happened if he hadn't come to Camelot, if he hadn't have befriended—"Merlin."

Merlin did not stop shaking, he did not stop rocking, because the voice he heard was Arthur's and he knew that this, like everything else, was his mind's doing. Had Merlin not befriended Arthur he would not be thinking of him now, hearing his voice calling to him like a friend, like an equal. He would not be imagining Arthur crouch beside him, lay an unsteady hand upon his shoulder, whisper his name near his ear. Merlin would not feel Arthur's strong hands sliding beneath his armpits, lifting him up and making him stand. He would not feel Arthur catch him before he slumped back toward the ground like a paper doll might under the weight of a rock. Had Merlin never befriended Arthur, he would not imagine that his one and _only_ best friend was tossing Merlin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying him back to Gaius' house and placing him back into his warm bed and into Gaius' fretting hands.

When Merlin awoke again, he felt sore everywhere in his body as though he hadn't moved for ages. He sat up and instantly regretted it because pain began to course in his head and even after lying back down, it remained. The door to his room stood open, apparently so that someone would be alerted when he woke up. Merlin peered through the doorframe but he didn't see Gaius in the room beyond.

His throat felt dry and he was grateful to find that there was water next to his bed already. He gulped it down too quickly, spilling it over his bared chest. Someone had undressed him and he found a cloth that must have been on his forehead as he slept. How long had he been asleep? He racked his brain as he tried to remember what had gone on in the last few days. He remembered Morgana being taken away by Morgause, he remembered the great dragon tormenting the city and he remembered that he was the last dragonlord and had sent the dragon away to never return. All this had happened a week ago, so what was he missing in between?

He vaguely remembered being with Arthur at a mock-battle and he knew that this had happened quite recently. Was it yesterday? If it was then why had he been asleep for so long? By the light that peered through his window he knew that it was long past morning and yet no one had woken him to begin his chores.

Merlin was stirred from his thoughts by the sound of the front door opening and he saw Gaius enter the house and immediately look into his room. Gaius made his way back toward Merlin. "Hello Merlin," the old man greeted him cheerfully, as though it were not at all strange that he had been in bed past midday. "Are you hungry?"

At the mention of food Merlin's stomach began to growl. He smiled sheepishly at Gaius and nodded. "Gaius, what happened? Why have I been asleep most of the day?"

Gaius replied, "Let me get you something to eat, Merlin, and I'll tell you all about it." He walked back into the kitchen area and spooned something into a bowl. When he returned to Merlin's side he handed the bowl to Merlin and then gave him a spoon. The bowl was warm and Merlin could smell vegetables and spices; it was some sort of vegetable stew. Merlin grinned in thanks and took a couple of spoonfuls before looking at Gaius again for his explanation.

"How is your head?" the older man asked instead.

Merlin's brows furrowed together. "It hurts. Badly."

Gaius nodded and left the room again coming back with a vial of potion for Merlin to take. Merlin drank it, thanked Gaius and took another spoonful of stew to wash out the taste of the medicine.

"Do you remember anything, Merlin?" Gaius asked finally, sitting down at the foot of Merlin's bed.

Merlin shook his head. "I remember the dragon, of course, but last I remember I was with Arthur after the mock-battle yesterday. Was that yesterday?"

"Yes, that was yesterday. When the two of you finished, Arthur said you went back to his chambers to undress his armour and pour him a bath."

Arthur? Why was Arthur telling Gaius what they'd done yesterday? "Ok so why do I feel like I've been attacked by a bear?" Merlin's eyes widened at the statement. "I wasn't, was I? Attacked by a bear?" He didn't see any gashes on his bare chest. Maybe the bear had mauled off his legs. Merlin pulled up the blanket to find both his legs intact.

Gaius smiled at the question, which made Merlin smile and chuckle lightly. "No, dear boy, though I certainly hope that by the time a bear got close enough to you to attack, you'd use your magic to prevent it. Lord knows you would be wholly useless to Arthur without your arms."

Merlin looked down at his arms as if to confirm they still worked too. "That's about all Arthur cares about. That and questioning me like my mother," he was mumbling, mostly to himself.

Gaius spoke again, "Merlin. You've been asleep all night and all morning. It's almost evening now."

"Yeah," Merlin nodded, having figured that out. "Who did my chores? And how has Arthur functioned without me doing everything for him?" Merlin meant it as a joke, of course, but Gaius looked so serious that it worried him.

"Arthur is capable of doing things for himself, he's just used to others doing them for him."

"Yeah I'll bet," snorted Merlin. He spooned more stew into his mouth before it got too cold.

"You've been sick, Merlin. It seems you caught a fever in the night. It broke sometime this morning, but you still slept on."

Merlin looked surprised. So was it just a fever that made him sleep all day? He was about to ask when Gaius spoke again. "Arthur said he found you in the forest last night, Merlin. Do you know why you were there?"

"What?" came Merlin's gasping surprise, "In the forest? When did I go to the forest?"

"When indeed," Gaius repeated, entirely unhelpful. Merlin looked to Gaius for wisdom and guidance but sometimes he wondered if Gaius did anything more than repeat questions that Merlin had already posed.

Merlin sat and chewed his stew, thinking about what had happened after he drew Arthur's bath. At first the memories stood out of reach and he felt frustrated that he could not recall his own actions from one night previous. Then he began to remember flashes of anger, resentment, and sadness. Finally he looked up at Gaius, remembering everything and frowning. "Arthur was questioning me again—about my magic. He thinks he has some idea as to what is going on, but he wants me to confirm his suspicions."

Gaius nodded, not looking at all distressed. "And did you?"

Merlin felt angry that Gaius would even ask, but he knew that the old man wasn't questioning his honour, just asking a simple question. "No, I didn't tell him."

"So what happened after that?" The way that Gaius was asking him these questions now made Merlin realise that Gaius already knew all the answers.

Merlin frowned at him. "You already know. I can tell."

"I only know what Arthur and Guinevere told me. I don't know how things seemed to _you_, Merlin, and that's why I am asking."

So not only had Gaius heard an account from Arthur, he'd also spoken to Guinevere after she'd found him in the corridor. _Fantastic_. Did they invite the knights over too so they could all laugh at him? "It was nothing. I was just—thinking." Of course it was more than that, but Gaius already knew that he had been sobbing like a child so Merlin foreclosed the information.

"Merlin—" Gaius began, but Merlin was saved by a knock on the front door.

He sighed in relief. Gaius gave him the 'we aren't finished talking about this' look and Merlin gestured to the door in response. "I'd get it, you see, but I can barely stand so…" he smirked at Gaius who looked like he wanted to curse but refrained. Merlin was glad that he and Gaius could communicate like this and never see any hurt feelings come from it. Merlin may have lost his biological father, but he had gained a father in Gaius the moment he moved to Camelot. He knew his mother only sent him there to have Gaius look out for him and his gift, but he was glad that he had found more than just a caretaker in Gaius. Thinking about it now, losing Balinor was not nearly as bad as it would have been if he had lost Gaius. He barely knew his father and it hurt him deeply that he lost the chance to get to know him, but he already had a father figure that knew him for who he truly was and he was thankful for it.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair as he waited outside the door. He felt like a prat, but he wasn't entirely sure why that was. Was it weird for him to be checking up on his manservant? But Merlin wasn't just his servant anymore—they were friends. Maybe not in the traditional sense because of Arthur's royalty, but in all the ways that really mattered, they were mates and that meant something to him because he'd never had a friend before. Not a real one, anyway. Any bloke who had claimed to be his friend was either trying to become a knight or trying to gain court standing. Merlin didn't want anything from him. He was just Merlin.

The door opened in front of him and he was faced with Gaius, the court physician. Arthur nodded to the older man who bowed his head in turn to Arthur. "How is he doing?" Arthur asked as he stepped through the door that Gaius held open for him.

"You may ask him yourself, sire, if you'd like." Gaius nodded toward the open door to Merlin's room and Arthur saw that Merlin was sitting up and eating. "If you'd excuse me, sire, I need to take these to Lady Gregory who has been complaining of a terrible earache." Arthur nodded his approval and Gaius picked up his bag and left the two of them alone in the house.

Arthur nodded at Merlin as he walked toward his room. "Conscious today, I see." He stopped and leaned against the doorframe of Merlin's bedroom.

"Yeah well I decided that driving myself to illness was the only way to get time off from shining your boots." Merlin offered him a small smirk, which Arthur took as a good sign.

Arthur gestured to the floor of Merlin's room. "It looks like I need to give you more time off to clean your own bloody room. This is downright despicable, Merlin, even for _you_. If you didn't clean up after me I'd be afraid you didn't know how to do it at all. Does Gaius really allow this without comment?" Arthur really didn't care one way or another, but he felt he owned Merlin this much considering it might have been his fault that Merlin had broken down last night.

"Well I keep the door closed usually so he doesn't see it."

Arthur nodded. "How are you feeling?"

Merlin shrugged in response. "I have a headache but otherwise I suppose I'll live to polish another day."

"Well consider today an extensive holiday because come tomorrow, you've got work to be doing. My meals do not provide themselves. And as it turns out, the cooks have had me banned from the kitchens since I was seven. I was apparently a menace. When I went down there, the head cook tried to beat me with a spoon."

Merlin laughed. "Serves you right, sire."

"Y'know, I should have you publically whipped for your cheek, Merlin," Arthur replied, but he failed to keep the smile from his lips. "And I'll have you know that I have been nothing but—"

"If you're about to say 'nothing but kind to me' I think I should remind you that the day I first met you, you picked a fight with me. Twice!"

"Oh I think I remember that quite differently. I think I remember you trying to be a hero and almost getting your head chopped off by my sword."

"_And_ you put me in the stocks!" Merlin said apparently ignoring what Arthur was saying.

"Yes well you deserved it. Only _you_ would come to Camelot and not know what the royal party looked like. You're such an idiot," Arthur laughed and despite his protest, so did Merlin.

Their laughter died out and Arthur began to feel uncomfortable. He was running out of small talk and that left him with either trying to apologise or leaving. The latter option was looking very promising at the moment.

"Look, Arthur, what you saw—"

Apparently he wasn't going to get a choice in the matter. Sighing, he sat down on Merlin's bed, putting up a hand to stop him from speaking. Arthur leaned forward, resting a forearm on either of his thighs, looking at Merlin's wall rather than the man himself. "No, Merlin, it was my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you about Balinor. You haven't lived the life I have and you don't know what it's like to have others sacrifice themselves so that you may live to see another day. I've seen it more than I can count and I will see more of it before I do eventually die.

"I'm sorry to have made light of the matter. I still remember the first man who laid down his life for me and I will never forget him for as long as I live. He was an older man, Bennet, one of my father's most trusted knights. He fought by my father's side for so many years—he was practically an uncle to me.

"There was one day, when I was ten years old, that I went out for my riding lessons and Bennet was the knight who rode with my teacher and me. I was on the horse, alone, my teacher standing beside me on the ground. He was telling me something—I can hardly remember what now—and a bandit came riding toward me. His shouting stirred the horse and it started to run away from the clearing…" Arthur dropped his head between his knees and rubbed his fingers loosely through his hair. He hadn't thought about Bennet in years, but something about Merlin always brought things out in Arthur he never even spoke to anyone about; sometimes things he didn't even want to acknowledge to himself.

No matter how close Bennet may have been to his father, Uther did not even seemed phased by the man's death after it happened. Arthur had nightmares about it for weeks and his father was back to cards and jokes the next day. Arthur swore to himself, a mere ten years old, that he would never let his knights go unremembered; anyone who fought under the banner of Camelot was as royal as he himself was. They would die a king's death so long as Arthur was there to see to it.

"Bennet saw the man and was able to intercept him before he reached my horse. They fought only briefly, but the bandit managed to stab him beneath his armour before Bennet could kill him. Bennet was dead before we could get back to the castle grounds."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he heard Merlin say. Arthur looked over at him then and a strange feeling set itself in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't the feeling he had had the night previous, worrying that Merlin might be in danger, but a softer feeling—almost like a flutter. It reminded him of the time—"Well I've got to go, Merlin. Patrols and the like; you know how it is." He stood up quickly, giving the dark haired man a nod. "Get better. I'll see you in the morning, yeah?"

Merlin's brow furrowed at Arthur's strange behavior but he didn't question it, for which Arthur was glad. "Yeah. Thanks Arthur. For coming to get me, I mean."

Arthur was already walking out of the bedroom when Merlin spoke. He stopped and a wave of affection swept over him that he had only felt once before. He turned and smiled at Merlin. "You'd have done the same for me, right?"

\-------

Arthur believed that he was coming down with something very serious. It was an ailment of the brain, in which he would get the same strange feelings in his gut that he had gotten when he was with Guinevere, but with Merlin now. This was obviously something that was detrimental to his very judgment which had usually been quite sound before this.

He could not—and didn't, really—deny the worry he had felt when Guinevere came to him that night with the story of Merlin's distress. Arthur was just beginning to consider this bloke as a true companion and now he was going to decide to go barmy? Not on Arthur's watch, damnit. Arthur could count the number of friends he had on one hand and he sure as hell was not going to watch Merlin act the loon and not do a thing to stop it. And ok, Merlin wasn't just looking for attention; he very obviously was depressed about this Balinor thing, but _why_? Or was there something else that was clouding his mind?

Arthur tried to think back to that night and what they had both said. Maybe he had gotten it wrong. When Arthur had spoken to him about Balinor he really had seemed truly grateful for Arthur's advice. So what had sent the man into such raving agony? It had to be something serious, because Merlin very rarely let his emotions affect his work for Arthur. He had turned around many a time to see Merlin let his shoulders slack and face twist into something unpleasant when he thought Arthur didn't see him. But as soon as Arthur acknowledged him again, Merlin was happy to serve. So what hurt him so now?

Arthur made sure to pay close attention to Merlin every time they were together now, in attempts to uncover the sadness that had settled over the dark-haired man's soul. But Merlin was not giving anything away; after they talked in his bedroom, Merlin acted as if nothing had ever happened. But Arthur could see the difference, subtle as it was. The first change Arthur picked up on was in Merlin's surly retorts. Oh they still existed, yes, but lately when Arthur gave him an order, most of the time Merlin either just did it or would say 'yes sire' begrudgingly and still do it without any further protest. No 'If your feet didn't smell like cow dung we wouldn't need to wash them ten times a day' or 'Arthur, how does one man change his trousers three times a day? If you still have trouble with soiling yourself, you need to have a talk with your father.' This quality in Merlin—who treated him like a human being and not a royal pompous ass—is what made Arthur grow to like him so much. When he was with Merlin, he felt like Arthur, not the prince or the knight—just plain _Arthur_. Besides Guinevere, Merlin was the only person who treated him that way. And even _she_ did not treat him so until she saw that Merlin did. Merlin had never been fazed by Arthur's lineage; he only concerned himself with Arthur's character, something Arthur sculpted for himself.

And now that Merlin was no longer moping about, Arthur was the only one who could tell he still had something bothering him. So Arthur spent almost all his free time with Merlin by his side, making some excuse or another as to why Merlin had to help him, so that he could watch the bloke and try to piece together what made Merlin lose control of himself like he had. At least that's what he kept _telling_ himself his reasoning was. Truthfully, he kept feeling this strange impulse to be near Merlin, to talk to him and take the piss and laugh with him about it after. And no matter how hard he tried to deny it, that same feeling he had had when he was with Guinevere was manifesting itself in the shape of Merlin. Merlin! He was a chap! What was _wrong_ with Arthur's mind—and his body!—that he would feel swoony for _Merlin_?

No, that couldn't be the same feeling. Arthur hadn't ever had romantic feelings toward anyone before Guinevere and he knew that this could not be what he was feeling now. It had to be some sort of brotherly affection that was taking him by surprise. Arthur never grew up with any blokes his own age so he didn't know what it was like to have a brother, much less a best mate. He could admit that yes, he felt an affection for Merlin, but it was a regular affection that any bloke would have for a good friend who had proven to be more than willing to lay down his own life to save his friend's. Certainly this was just how Merlin felt toward him and that's why they got along as well as they did.

He needed to keep his focus on getting Merlin to share whatever troubles he was trying to bury within himself. Arthur was there to be Merlin's friend and he wouldn't let some random stomach fluttering distract him from his mission.

Unbeknownst to Arthur, in his current escapade into Merlin's emotions, he had let his thoughts of Merlin's possibly having magic fall to the wayside. Those thoughts hadn't crossed Arthur's mind since the night Merlin broke down in the corridor because he'd been so preoccupied with sorting out his _own_ feelings for his friend.

\-------

"Merlin, do you know how long I have to wait to get dinner in this god-forsaken palace?" Arthur lounged comfortably in his chair, feet resting on the table as he watched Merlin prepare his rooms for the night. He had been torturing Merlin mercilessly all day, but Merlin always found the amusement in Arthur's comments.

"Well I think that depends on how many menial chores the person who is supposed to fetch your dinner is given, _sire_." Merlin was putting away Arthur's wash in the wardrobe.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Are you saying I give you too much to do?"

Arthur then received Merlin's well known 'you know how much a prat you are' glare. "Not at all, sire. _Not—at—all_."

"Well while you are down there, you might as well ask for an extra plate for yourself since it looks like you'll be working well into the night to finish these chores you should have had done by this morning." Arthur couldn't very well ask the bloke to stay and have dinner with him and he certainly wasn't going to tell Merlin that he actually liked having him around. He watched as Merlin gave him a suspicious glare. Arthur did not think he deserved such looks. He wasn't a total ass, after all.

It took forever, but Merlin finally came back with his meal. Merlin sat down the extra plate and made his way across the room to finish with Arthur's wash.

"When you finish come sit down and eat. That will count as your break for the night. Can't say I overwork you now, can you?" Arthur pointed his fork at Merlin, which had gravy dripping from it. Most of it landed on the table. Arthur nodded at the mess and said, "You'll have to clean that up too." He tried to hide his smirk by looking at his plate, but Merlin knew him too well to miss it.

When Merlin sat down across from Arthur, he said, "Do you need me to stand next to you and serve as your napkin, sire? Or perhaps you need a bib to keep from dribbling gravy on your tunic."

With his mouth full, Arthur said, "I think a little gravy dribble is the least of your problems considering the current state the stable is in. Have you even brushed my horse in the last month?"

"Yes, Arthur. I remember it very clearly because I had to use that same horse brush to wash your back hair from the bathing tub." Arthur was watching Merlin's face while he spoke and saw that Merlin could barely keep his composure before he burst out a laugh.

Arthur's mouth fell open in mock disgust. "You have gone too far now, servant! I have never had a hair sprout from my back in my life!" Arthur feigned hurt to his sensitive princely pride.

"I bet if I kept a collection I could get the seamstresses to weave you a winter coat from your own body's making, sire. It would be one of a kind, y'know."

Arthur could not think of any good retort and this attack on his pristinely hair-free back could not go unpunished. The only thing he could think to do was throw something at Merlin so he picked up a piece of shaved beef from his plate, covered in gravy, of course, and tossed it directly into Merlin's face.

Arthur watched as Merlin froze, stunned by the sudden splash of liquidly meat in his face. The beef fell from Merlin's face and hit his plate with a loud _plop_. Merlin had one eye clammed shut because it was surrounded with brown, dripping gravy. "_Sire_," Merlin spoke slowly, calmly as he set down his fork on his plate, gravy still dripping from his face onto his tunic, "that happens to be my favorite eye you just blinded."

Arthur scoffed at him, taking a bite from his remaining slice of beef. "Please Merlin, don't be so dramatic. If you go home telling people you were blinded by gravy you'll have a terrible time living it down. Take some tips from me and _be a man_." Arthur did not say the last three words with an underlying meaning that Merlin was kind of a sissy. But it _was_ true.

Merlin continued to remain calm as he lifted his napkin and wiped the gravy from his face and chin. When he had finished, he addressed Arthur again. "Well, Prince Arthur, since you want to behave like a child, I guess you won't be getting any dessert tonight."

Arthur perked up. "Dessert? What dessert? I didn't see you bring in any dessert!" Arthur watched as Merlin produced a plate with a piece of chocolate cake from beneath the table. "Where the bloody hell were you hiding that?"

Merlin smirked and sat the plate down in front of him on the table. "If I reveal the secret then it ruins the whole trick, now doesn't it?"

Arthur sat back in his chair and pretended to be disinterested. He did wonder just where Merlin had been hiding that cake though. It looked as if he pulled it out of thin air! "I don't think I want any cake you've had stuffed down your trousers anyhow, Merlin. I doubt it would improve upon the flavor." He really _did_ want that cake though.

Merlin stuck his fork into the cake and took an excessively large bite to tease the prince. "I wouldn't eat it if it were stuffed down my trousers either," he said as he chewed.

Arthur frowned. "I know very well that the cooks didn't make that cake for _you_. If you don't hand it over I'm going to have to have you arrested."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few moments and then sighed, "Oh alright, you can have the stupid cake, you whiny prat." Merlin picked up the plate and leaned over the table so he could set it near Arthur. At least that's what Arthur thought he was doing, but the moment he set the plate down he picked up the cake and Arthur had only a split second to process that he'd been had before his face was being smothered with cake—gloriously wasted cake.

"Alright Merlin," spoke Arthur, sending bits of cake flying from his face and landing on the table and on both of their plates. "I call a truce. But there will be recompense for wasting so much delicious cake." Arthur stroked a finger over his cheek and licked it off as if that proved his point. Arthur considered dropping the contents of his plate into the back of Merlin's tunic, but decided he did not want to have to deal with a bigger mess in his chambers than they'd already made.

Arthur filled the washing basin and handed the empty jug to Merlin to refill. By the time Merlin had returned with more water Arthur's face was cake free and he was pulling his tunic over his head so he didn't get cake bits in his bed. "They're going to hate you for that, y'know." He gestured to his soiled tunic he'd thrown on the floor.

Merlin smirked at him. "I know, but if they just knew how _satisfying_ it was, I don't think they'd mind nearly as much."

"Let's hope so for your sake. I may have spoons after me but I don't think you'd survive a blow to the head from a washing board." Arthur laughed at the thought of it though.

"I'm happy the thought of maiming me amuses you." Merlin was clearing the table as he retorted.

Arthur walked over to his bed and flopped down on his back with a sigh. "Of course. In fact, I have trouble remembering just how I did without the likes of your amusement before, Merlin."

"Oh I know the answer to that, sire," Merlin said and Arthur could hear his voice colouring with such glee that he knew Merlin would have him cornered with this one. "You spent your time being an arrogant, condescending, overbearing—"

"—Well now you're just repeating yourself—"

"—rude, inconsiderate, demeaning—"

"—Really, Merlin, this list has to end sometime—"

"—scheming, underhanded, despicable—"

"—_Oh come on! _—"

"—ass. And a prat sometimes too. Come to think of it, sire, I'm not sure what _your_ redeemable features are."

"You should consider them to be me not having you flogged for addressing me the way you do." Arthur cradled the back of his head with his hands.

"If I don't then who will?" Merlin looked at Arthur pointedly and Arthur gave him a rude gesture in return.

"Merlin, would you stop rattling things about? You're giving me a headache."

"What would you have me do then?" Merlin sounded annoyed, as though he should be unhappy that Arthur had ordered him to stop working. He had some nerve, Merlin.

"Sit down or something. I don't bloody care. Allow me to relax for at least a moment."

Merlin shrugged and dropped the empty plates noisily on the table. He received a very aggravated look from Arthur in return. Arthur closed his eyes and lay still, enjoying the peace for as long as it would last. Apparently that was not very long nowadays. As soon as he thought he might drift to sleep he heard a swishing noise and then _flump! _ "Merlin, what do you think you're doing?" Arthur asked, eyes still closed. After he gained his composure he allowed himself to gaze to the other side of the bed that Merlin was now occupying, posed in the same position as Arthur.

"You said to relax, sire. I'm just following orders."

"Did you just get in my bed with your sodden boots on, Merlin?" Arthur asked with such composure it was probably frightening.

Merlin's grin was so wide his face might break in half from it. "Yes I did. It really shouldn't matter to you, though, since I'm the one that has to change the sheets, yeah?"

"You are so _very_ lucky, Merlin, that I am entirely too comfortable to grab my sword right now. If I weren't, we wouldn't have to worry about your boots being on the bed because I would have chopped off your ankles for you."

Arthur had returned his stare to the ceiling and eventually he closed his eyes again. He felt Merlin shift next to him. They remained silent for quite some time before Arthur felt entirely uncomfortable, a similar feeling building in his chest that he'd noticed in Merlin's bedroom.

"Merlin, when I open my eyes if you are staring at me I cannot be held responsible for the ways in which I am going to murder you."

Arthur opened one eye and peeked over. Sure enough, Merlin was lying on his side, propping up his head with his hand, staring at Arthur like some sort of buffoon.

"I think you like me too much to murder me, sire." Merlin's tone was mocking, but Arthur's brain processed the words completely out of context. His mind started racing a metre a second and before he knew what was happening, he had leaned over and pressed his lips against Merlin's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspirational song for this chapter was "Invisible" by Taylor Swift. Again another amazing fanvideo, this time by the lovely [katelynnlynn](http://katelynnlynn.livejournal.com/profile). Please watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyWQhz_zzRE).


	3. Tangibly Unsuitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin's relationship becomes strained after previous endeavours. They are both trying to make sense of the feelings they have but growing too close just might break them.

Merlin was fairly certain that time had stopped. His body went so rigid he felt a cramp in his legs. He kept telling himself to _wake up_ because there was no possible way this was taking place. Merlin may be an idiot sometimes, but he was no cretin. He might have fantasized from time to time about Arthur's shirtless body pressed against his own, but he knew it would always remain thus—just fantasy.

But there was a distinct reaction in his body that was telling him that he was _not_ dreaming. In fact he was entirely _too_ aware of what was happening. One moment he was testing Arthur's patience to the fullest and the next Arthur was mauling him like a wildcat. Ok it wasn't anywhere near that aggressive, but the sheer contact of Arthur's lips pressed against his own was heartbreakingly wonderful and terrifying at the same time. Did Arthur have any idea what he was doing? More importantly, did Arthur have any idea what he was doing to _Merlin_?

It had taken Merlin a moment to realise that he wasn't reacting to this contact, merely lying there like a fawn lost in the forest. When he finally worked up the courage to do something, Arthur was pulling away from him. There were a million possibilities as to what was racing through Arthur's mind just then, but Merlin wanted to be certain that rejection was not one of them. Just as Arthur seemed to have given up on his bold attempt, Merlin was chasing after him, pressing his lips roughly back against Arthur's. It wasn't supposed to be painful, but their mouths didn't seem to work properly at first and their teeth clanked together like some musical instrument gone awry. Merlin heard Arthur grunt and he hoped the blond man did not just give up entirely, but it seemed that Merlin's belated reaction served to stir Arthur again.

Indeed, Arthur was almost frightfully stirred. He had decided to take the lead back from Merlin and was crushing his lips against Merlin's, pushing Merlin onto his back against the sheets, Arthur's bare chest pressing warmly against Merlin's own chest. Merlin did not have much experience with snogging, but he was already certain this was as good as it got. The initial desperation died from the kiss and they were now moving against each other in smooth waves—Merlin could swear his head was swimming from it.

Arthur was the first to open his mouth wider as if he were hoping to enclose all of Merlin's mouth inside his own. Merlin decided to risk making a move he normally wouldn't because, hell, he was already kissing Arthur so it wasn't as though he could catch him off guard in any way. He threw caution to the wind and pressed his tongue into Arthur's mouth, searching for Arthur's tongue. Merlin felt Arthur shift and then his hand was clasping the back of Merlin's head, pulling it up and closer. Merlin let his free hand—that was not crushed beneath Arthur's stomach just then—come to rest on Arthur's bare side. It was a strange feeling, his hand against Arthur's bare skin—he almost felt as though a shock ran between them. Or maybe Arthur had just shivered from the touch; Merlin doubted that was the case though.

He started to feel as though this kiss could last an eternity and he would not have minded if it did. There was a moment, though, when Arthur's bottom lip protruded into the space between Merlin's teeth and Merlin bit down on it instinctively. A gasp escaped from Arthur's mouth and then he was retreating away from Merlin, sending a rush of cool air over Merlin's upper body. Arthur was sitting up in an instant and then so was Merlin. He watched the prince, horrified, as Arthur touched his fingers gingerly to his bottom lip, which was seeping blood freely.

Arthur was staring at his pillow so intently that Merlin realised he was forcing himself not to look at him. They sat quietly and Merlin could literally hear time passing by them. Eventually, when it seemed Arthur's lip was going to survive another day, Merlin mumbled that he was sorry. At first Arthur didn't seem to hear him, he just continued staring at the pillow. He looked up, finally, into Merlin's face, his eyes shimmering in the candlelight. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped from it. Merlin was just about to say something—anything—but Arthur cut over him.

"I think I'd better be getting to sleep now." His voice sounded gravely, but otherwise entirely unmoving. He stood and began pulling down his bed linens so he could lie down beneath them.

Merlin jumped up suddenly, awkwardly, feeling as if he were in the way. He wanted to say something, to acknowledge the moment but Arthur didn't seem to want anything more to do with him. Was it because Merlin bit him or the entire exchange?

"Could you blow the candle out on your way out, Merlin?" There was no mistaking that Merlin was no longer welcome in the room. That had been the first night in which Merlin had felt almost normal and now…well now he really had no idea _what_ he felt. When he blew out the candle on Arthur's bedside table, he said softly, "Goodnight, sire."

When he was walking across Arthur's chambers to the door, he thought he heard a strange noise erupt from Arthur's throat as if he planned to say something but then changed his mind.

Merlin's vision blurred for the second time after leaving Arthur's rooms.

\-------

Merlin had expected things to go badly after the kiss. He expected that Arthur was just going to sack him outright. But Arthur surprised Merlin entirely and acted like nothing had happened at all. At least nothing out of the ordinary for the two of them. Merlin would have bought the act if it were not for those few moments in which Arthur was forced to be alone with him. Arthur was trying so hard to treat Merlin as he always did, which was making fun of him every second of the day, but he was tripping over his words and pitching awkward glances toward Merlin. Merlin liked to pretend that he was acting just as he normally would too, but it turns out he could no longer control his own body and kept tripping over invisible obstacles and blurting out nonsensical words and phrases.

It seemed to take them weeks, but eventually the dire need to be as far away from each other as possible died down and they fell back into a more comfortable, yet still strained, rhythm.

Arthur was currently sitting on his bed, rubbing his sharpening stone across his sword tenderly. At least to Merlin it had always looked tender; sometimes it looked like Arthur had a strange relationship with that sword. Merlin found it impressive, though, that Arthur did it himself rather than having the blacksmiths do it. It was just another one of the things that spoke well of Arthur's character.

Merlin was splayed on the floor, polishing Arthur's boots. Things between them had calmed, but there was still a tension that hung in the air that Merlin couldn't seem to penetrate no matter how hard he tried. Merlin was always sitting on the fence when it came to his relationship with Arthur; in some ways he was glad to have had one kiss than no kiss at all and in other ways he would rather they had just stayed the friends that they had been because everything was easier that way. At least when they were friends, they did not have trouble talking to each other about what was bothering them, whereas now they refused to speak about the kiss or anything that surrounded the topic. Banter still remained, but it was so half-heartedly done that it would have made better sense to not have tried at all.

"Merlin," Arthur said suddenly, stirring Merlin out of his revelry. Merlin looked up, expectant, and Arthur said, "someone's at the door," rather monotonously though he did give Merlin a sort of appraising once over.

Merlin just nodded and opened the door. "Gawain, sire," Merlin announced and Arthur looked up and said hello.

"Arthur, your father wishes to see you," Gawain spoke, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Merlin looked back and forth between them and wondered why they both seemed strange around each other. Had this been going on a while? Merlin couldn't really say, as he hadn't been paying much attention. That and he hadn't been spending as much time with Arthur as before.

"You know what about?" Arthur asked, looking back down at his sword.

"Your birthday party, sire. He insists that it take place and wants to tell you personally."

Arthur's face darkened for a moment. "To tell me I have no choice in the matter, of course."

Gawain did not confirm this, of course, but Merlin assumed that Arthur was right. "He's waiting for you in the hall," said Gawain and then bowed and left.

Merlin couldn't help but ask, "Your birthday is coming soon?" Arthur hadn't said a thing about it.

The blond man shrugged. "It's a wasted effort, what he wants to do. I'd rather all the food go to the people instead of making the lords and ladies fatter than they already are. I barely speak to half the people who come. I know even less."

Merlin considered this. It was times like these that Merlin truly appreciated Arthur for who he was. He really would make a fantastic king and Merlin was excited to see just how things would turn out when that day came. "Still can't hurt, can it? Celebrating your birthday, I mean. The knights will come, yeah? You like most of them." Which was true. Some of them were older men, but many younger men were joining every day and Arthur seemed to get along with them well enough.

Arthur sighed and shrugged, setting aside his sword. "I do, but you have to understand that my birthday party has nothing to do with celebrating _me_. It's just another show of my father's to try at treaties and create alliances—he doesn't even _talk_ to me."

Merlin knew that Arthur's relationship with Uther wasn't the best, but he had hope that as Arthur grew older he would find something to make them closer. "Well I'll be there, yeah? I'll talk to you, for what it's worth." Merlin figured that wasn't worth much at all at the moment, but when Arthur looked at him he saw genuine affection in Arthur's blue eyes.

Arthur nodded at him. "Thanks, Merlin. You're right. I'd rather spend time with you than those pompous arses anyway." Arthur smiled—actually _smiled_—at Merlin for the first time in what felt like _forever_.

Merlin grinned back stupidly.

He heard a small chuckle leave Arthur's throat as he stood to pull on some boots. "Well then, ready to get yelled at?"

Merlin nodded as if Arthur had asked him if he was ready to eat a delicious meal, not hear Uther rant about a not-really-birthday celebration. "Of course, it's what I live for, sire."

"I didn't know you were so eager to be in my father's presence, Merlin. Maybe I should have you take my place," Arthur was smirking and Merlin couldn't help but do so too because it really had been a while since they had spoken so easily to each other.

"I would, but I don't think he'd take me for the fighting ready chap that you are. In fact I think he really hates me, most of the time." Uther never did seem overly fond of Merlin.

Arthur shook his head. "Honestly, I don't think he notices you half the time."

"Oh well that's certainly comforting, Arthur. Cheers."

Merlin gave him a sidelong smirk and Arthur shoved his shoulder against Merlin's playfully as they made their way to the hall. Merlin couldn't really remember anything that Uther said that day in the hall because he was watching Arthur the entire time. He saw the familiar, favored version of Arthur that he'd always been fond of, despite Arthur's attempts to act as if he was pained to have to interact with him, returning and he was beginning to hope that maybe, just maybe, they would get past the awkward night in which they had kissed.

\-------

The castle had been bustling about in a frenzy the past week in preparation for the birthday party. Merlin was forced to admit that Arthur had been completely right—this had absolutely nothing to do with him. But Merlin was determined that Arthur would at least have a good time at the party even if it was a ruse.

Arthur was made to go hunting for boar for the party (something Merlin found entirely unfair since it was supposed to be _Arthur's_ party) so he and Merlin set out for a few days journey to find a large enough boar to serve alongside the three or so other types of meat. Merlin was beginning to understand why Arthur had found the whole thing ridiculous. It wasn't even possible for everyone to eat that much food.

"Merlin," came Arthur's voice through the haze of Merlin's thoughts.

"Yes sire?" Merlin answered, looking over at the blond on the other horse. Arthur was staring at him, for how long Merlin did not know, with a heavy gaze that sent butterflies floating into Merlin's stomach. "What?" he asked again, less formally, when Arthur did not answer him.

Arthur held his gaze for another minute before turning to look ahead. "Nothing," replied the prince and Merlin frowned at the back of his head.

It would take more than the first day to reach the woods that were heavy with wild boar, so they made camp for the night when the sun began to sink in the sky. Merlin was building the fire while Arthur trapped two rabbits to cook. They worked in silence for the most part, only speaking when it was required to get something done.

While they sat and ate, the silence grew so heavy around them that Merlin felt like he had to swim through it. He wanted to say something to dissolve the tension, but his brain seemed to empty of any intelligible thought. It was completely unfair and Merlin just wished Arthur would stop being so bloody infuriating all the time. First he was kissing him, then he was ignoring him and _then_ he was staring at him all the time. Merlin decided that if Arthur was attempting to make him want to throttle his own neck, the blond was doing a superbly fantastic job of it.

Merlin looked up from his food and once again there was Arthur, staring at him. "_What?_" Merlin blurted out, entirely on a whim. A blush was creeping up his neck and threatening to expose itself on his cheeks.

Arthur raised his eyebrows in interest but he did not say a word. Not a bloody word! Merlin felt like he was going to unravel if this kept going on.

"Would you stop…stop _looking_ at me all the damn time!" Ok, so this wasn't Merlin's finest moment—it was perhaps his lowest yet and he included his sob-fest in this category too—but he would be damned if he went on not commenting on Arthur's ludicrously strange behaviour. Not even the crowned prince should be able to stare at someone and not tell him _why_. It was inhumane.

Arthur's immediate response was a smirk. _Of course_, thought Merlin, _what else would he do?_ Then Arthur said, "Am I not allowed to look at people, Merlin?"

Merlin's face twisted in annoyance, in confusion and his mouth vomited incredulously, "You're not looking, Arthur, you're downright staring. It's kind of rude not to mention annoying."

In response to this, Merlin received silence. Arthur didn't stop looking at him either. Merlin felt like Arthur was trying to communicate with him telepathically and was put out that Merlin couldn't understand a damn thing he was trying to convey. Just when Merlin thought Arthur was going to completely disregard everything the warlock had said, Arthur spoke, "It's my job to annoy you, Merlin." He said it with such utter honesty and a convincingly unmoving expression that Merlin did the only thing he could think to—he started to laugh.

It was quiet at first, a small chuckle that could have been inaudible, but the more he looked at Arthur, the funnier the entire situation became and then Arthur was laughing aloud alongside Merlin and despite the fact that Merlin was still wholly confused about this entire exchange, he was happy for the change in mood. Merlin said, between gasps, "I thought it was my job to annoy _you_."

Arthur nodded. "Oh you do, Merlin, every second you are annoying me." This outright insult did nothing but make Merlin laugh harder.

"You are _such_ a royal prat," Merlin coughed out, to which Arthur only grinned.

When the laughter died this time, the air no longer seemed laden with uneasiness and Merlin finished his meal contentedly. When he'd finished washing their plates in the nearby stream, Merlin remembered the awkward exchange he had witnessed between Arthur and Gawain and asked, "Did something happen between you and Gawain?"

Arthur's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You both seemed…uncomfortable with each other that day when he came with the news of your party." Merlin sat down on the log that Arthur occupied and pressed a stick into the fire, poking around the burning embers absentmindedly.

For a minute or two, Arthur remained silent, but Merlin could tell he was formulating an answer by the way he shifted on the log next to him. "Gawain thinks that the sun rises and sets with the king. He considers my father to be his own father because he's really the closest thing to one Gawain has ever had. So he's always been—I don't know, uneasy? He's always been uneasy around me because I do not always agree with my father on certain matters. A lot of matters, lately." Arthur glanced over at Merlin when he said this and Merlin saw a strange light pass through his eyes as though he was trying to refer to something. It made Merlin fidget uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

Arthur waited as though he was expecting a reply from Merlin, but he received none and continued, "Gawain thinks that I shouldn't go against my father's wishes. He believes that my father is right, no matter what, and my defiance is an act to gain attention around court—"

"That's completely ridiculous," Merlin interjected without pretence. "You always do what you think is right, Arthur, and if that happens to not be agreeable with your father, it doesn't mean you're…" his voice trailed off since he'd already made his point. And he felt suddenly foolish for interrupting Arthur in the first place.

There was a silence that followed and Merlin looked up to see Arthur looking at him again. "What?" he asked for the third time today, though this time his voice was more playful.

Arthur shook his head and looked at the fire. "You really are a riddle, Merlin. Just when I think I understand you, you go and…" Arthur never finished the sentence and Merlin never asked him to.

After a few moments, Merlin said, "Y'know, I think you were wrong." He knew he was being cryptic, trying to entice Arthur into asking what he was on about, but he couldn't help but do it anyway. Having Arthur interested in Merlin in any way was nice, regardless of how underhandedly Merlin went about it.

Arthur took the bait. "Wrong about what?"

"Just because you're a prince, it doesn't mean we can't be friends." Merlin kept his gaze on the fire so that the light could bounce off him and hide the blush that coloured his face.

Silence filled the air, but then Arthur said, "Thanks, Merlin," and standing up, added, "We should get some sleep."

Merlin spent at least an hour watching Arthur after he'd fallen asleep. Merlin studied his face, which only ever looked that relaxed when he was unconscious. Merlin wished he knew of a way to make Arthur feel relaxed without him having to be knocked out. Even though he couldn't see them now, Merlin imagined Arthur's eyes staring back into his own and wondered why he had put up such a fuss about Arthur's staring when there was really nothing better in the world than having Arthur stare at him with his beautiful, engaging, and captivating blue eyes.

Merlin finally drifted to sleep with the thought of whispering against Arthur's lips, []()_my sweet prince_ over and over again until Arthur silenced him entirely.

\-------

As it turned out, Arthur was complete crap at making plans.

He was reminded of this as he and Merlin road back from their hunting trip, successful in the sense that he'd gotten what his father had wanted, but unsuccessful in the sense that Merlin was still _everywhere_ that Arthur went. This was not literally, but imaginatively, because Arthur could not even blink without seeing Merlin's face behind his eyelids. And Arthur had tried, as absurd as he knew it was, to forego blinking entirely, but as he was reminding himself then, his plan hadn't worked.

His first plan, that was. He actually came up with a multitude of plans, each successively failing to a degree that Arthur should probably be ashamed of. Or maybe he should be more ashamed of the fact that he'd attempted to formulate such half-hearted ideas to begin with.

After the colossal fail of the 'no-blinking' plan, his next contrivance was not as illogical as the first, but equally ineffective. Avoiding any Merlin-shaped object within the confines of Camelot (and all outer boundaries, mind you) was not impossible, but none too beneficial either. Arthur realised very quickly that avoiding Merlin also meant that he had no manservant, which meant that Arthur was supposed to do everything for himself. Arthur was resourceful and he could actually do all these things himself, but he found that having to bribe servants to go into the kitchens to get his dinner—because he refused to walk around with welts from wooden spoons—every single day was going to become a burden he would rather do without.

This led Arthur to idea number three: sack Merlin and get a new manservant. This plan was abandoned before Arthur finished formulating it.

Now Arthur was left with the option of dealing with Merlin being around, but avoid speaking or interacting with him in any way. Apparently menservants are completely useless unless you actually tell them what to do which put Arthur back at the formulation process once again.

This would normally be when Arthur would blame Merlin for being an incompetent sod and revel in his exasperated fumbling replies, except that blaming Merlin for the rupture of the 'avoid Merlin' plans was not really a viable option if he expected to stay incognito with all his scheming. This was around the point that Arthur remembered that he usually made Merlin devise all their stratagem and Arthur just poked fun at them until he finally did exactly what Merlin had decided would be best.

So short of hiring Merlin to devise anti-Merlin methods, Arthur was beguiled.

This had been when—a couple of weeks ago around the time that the king had decided to give Arthur an un-birthday party—Arthur had given up entirely on his schemes and started staring at Merlin. Surprisingly enough, constantly looking at the man that had plagued his thoughts and drove him to kiss another bloke was oddly comforting. Arthur felt less stressed and annoyed when he just let himself gaze unheeded. This wasn't, however, an action he could conceal and Merlin caught onto him after the first five minutes of concentrated scrutinizing. Merlin, bless him, didn't even mention it at first. To Arthur's private amusement, Merlin tried to pretend that the prince was not ogling him at every open opportunity.

Merlin was a smart bloke, albeit a bit clumsy, and he had figured out (so far as Arthur could tell) that something was not quite right with Arthur's mood as of late and he'd tried to help in any way he could think of. Merlin's current operation was to play up the excitement of Uther's looming party; he made reference to 'just how much bloody fun' it could turn out to be and Arthur should keep a most open mind about the entire engagement. Arthur couldn't really disagree with him since the best part of parties was the ale and he knew his father would never go stingy on the ale. However, Arthur knew that ale also meant impeded inhibitions and with the current space that his mind was occupying, he knew this was an altogether terrible—and altogether exciting—idea. To be quite honest, Arthur's next move was going to take place whether or not he was a little sloshed, because all that staring at Merlin had made him unmitigatedly interested in touching the bloke's ludicrously pale skin.

The night of the party finally arrived and Arthur was glad to have ale to drown out his nervous fidgeting, which was laughably obvious to anyone with eyes. That did not include Uther, however, because Uther never paid that much attention to Arthur's discomforts and Arthur was fairly certain Uther probably did not know if or when Arthur was uncomfortable at all. Usually this would annoy Arthur, but tonight it was counted as a divine blessing.

Arthur was entirely too aware of Merlin's body hovering behind his seat at the high table. It took all of Arthur's self restraint to not glance back just to confirm that, yes, Merlin was still as pale and intriguing as always. It would be unseemly for Arthur to be making eyes with his servant at dinner, so Arthur was left with the other option of clutching his eating utensils so tightly they left imbedded red marks in his palms.

The meal dragged on forever. Arthur was ready to do something that would get him thrown into the dungeons so he no longer had to endure the torture that was formal dining. Finally, they broke up for dancing and socialising and Arthur shoved a pint of ale into Merlin's face as soon as was physically possible. "I don't think I—" Merlin began to say but Arthur slapped him on the shoulder a little roughly and silenced him.

"Who's the prince between the two of us?"

"You."

"Right, so do what I tell you to, will you?" As an afterthought he added, "What sort of man tries to turn down ale, anyhow?"

Merlin gave him the sort of look that spoke volumes of his immense hatred toward Prince Arthur. Arthur grinned back happily, gulping down his own ale.

"Arthur!" came a booming voice from somewhere in the hall. Arthur spotted Bors after little searching—the man was practically an ox. "Happy Birthday!" When Bors reached Arthur, he sloshed a great deal of his own drink down his front trying to maneuver an arm around Arthur's shoulder.

"Thank you, Bors." The larger man was barely listening to him. He was searching the room for someone and once he spotted her and grinned down at Arthur. "See that skirt over there," Bors pointed a meaty finger from his perch on Arthur's shoulder. "She has been raving on all night about how attractive Prince Arthur is and how she very much wanted to wish him a happy birthday herself." The man barked out a laugh and slapped Arthur on the back before roaming off, almost in a daze.

Arthur noted the girl stood close to Lord Dubosc and must be his eldest daughter—his younger daughters were seven and three if Arthur recalled correctly. Merlin spoke over Arthur's shoulder, "Well she's very pretty, isn't she?"

Arthur just shrugged, faintly annoyed by Merlin appraising some random Lord's daughter he knew nothing of. It took Arthur a little too long to realise how ridiculous that thought truly was and decided he still needed to inhale more ale before this night would become bearable.

Arthur could feel Merlin growing antsy as they made the rounds through the hall so anyone who wanted to wish Arthur a happy birthday had the chance to. The longer they stayed the louder the guests became thanks to the drink settling in. When the exit finally opened, Arthur dragged Merlin by the wrist out of the hall and down the corridors of the castle. Merlin didn't protest, but Arthur could feel his pulse under his thumb, thrumming faster than was normal. Was he scared? Excited? Arthur didn't even know if Merlin was aware of his intentions but he was fairly certain Merlin had figured things out by now. If not well…

Arthur Pendragon was very rarely taken by surprise, but damnit Merlin surprised him _every time_. Merlin was the first person Arthur had ever met who was not entirely predictable and maybe this was the reason that Arthur felt so attracted to him. Knowing every move someone has planned was something that Arthur had gotten used to but he was finding out that Merlin was not _everyone_. He was something altogether different that Arthur wanted to study, even if it took him forever to learn.

Arthur pulled Merlin inside his chamber door and when Merlin pushed the door closed behind them, Merlin did what Arthur least expected: he took control. Merlin pushed Arthur against the door, not roughly, but demanding. Arthur took it in stride, though he could feel his heart beating in his chest, trying to break through his ribs as he looked into Merlin's eyes. Merlin held his shoulders against the wood and for once Arthur was the one being scrutinized. Perhaps Arthur should have considered just how unnerving that really was because he suddenly worried that he was going to fail some test Merlin was giving him and he felt genuinely afraid then that he might just get rejected.

He needn't worry, it turned out, because Merlin abandoned the stare and moved in to kiss Arthur. Alcohol running through his blood seemed not to detract but add to the intensity in which Arthur felt Merlin's lips moving against his own. Unlike the first time, Arthur felt certain and comfortable against this dark haired man, feeling that because he was with Merlin, he was going to be safe. Perhaps he always would be. Regardless of how confusing this entire situation was, Arthur could not help but feel that it was the _right_ thing for them to be doing.

Merlin was in control and Arthur was ok with this, but there was a point within the exchange that Arthur took matters back into his own hands and Merlin submitted the power willingly. Arthur fisted his fingers within the hair at the back of Merlin's neck trying to pull the pale man's face closer than was even possible. Arthur would have been wholly happy with melting into Merlin's body and never coming back out again. Since that wasn't possible, Arthur started pushing off the door and walking Merlin backward, a firm arm around his waist as the man stumbled blindly, tripping at least twice before the back of Merlin's legs collided with the bed frame and he fell back onto the bed with Arthur on top of him, refusing to release his hold. He knew it had probably hurt Merlin's legs, but Merlin did not protest and Arthur kept pressing against him hungrily. Their legs hung awkwardly off the end of the bed but Arthur cared not. He was fixated on kissing Merlin, running his tongue against Merlin's lips, pressing his tongue against Merlin's. Arthur wanted to memorise his mouth in its entirety.

Arthur felt Merlin's hands fisting at his tunic and after a moment, one of Merlin's hands slipped beneath it and the contact was like a shock to Arthur. Merlin's hand was cold, almost too cold, and when his palm pressed against Arthur's lower back, Arthur wondered if Merlin wanted to melt into him too. The prince pulled away and stood, a look of confusion and worry twisting in Merlin's face. Arthur then pulled his tunic up and over his head and Merlin took this as some unspoken command to do the same. Merlin footed off both of his boots too so Arthur did as well. Then Arthur watched as Merlin scooted back on the bed, lying flat against the sheets and watching the blond with eyes darker than Arthur had ever seen them.

He would have held Merlin's gaze, but he couldn't. He wanted to look at Merlin's upper body, to touch every inch of brilliantly pale skin and kiss his way across every dip and curve. His hands wanted to learn Merlin's body as well as they knew their own. Crawling forward on the bed, one knee on either side of Merlin's hips, Arthur came to rest on Merlin's lap and the taller man's hips rose instinctively against Arthur's weight. The blond ignored it and instead placed both of his palms against the sides of Merlin's pale neck. He thumbed Merlin's adam's apple delicately. Moving down, he rubbed his thumbs into the hallow of the warlock's throat and continued his descent. Soon his palms were pressed flush against Merlin's upper chest and Arthur was frozen, gazing down intently at Merlin's skin beneath his fingers. He could feel Merlin's eyes on him but Arthur was entranced by this man's beautiful complexion. When they'd first met Arthur thought it creepy but now he was unsure how he ever kept from touching him before.

Finally Arthur continued dragging his hands down Merlin's torso until his thumbs came into contact with Merlin's nipples. They were both erect and he began to finger the small buds, thumbs running circles around them. He broke his rapture to look at Merlin's face, to see some sort of reaction to what Arthur was doing. At first he didn't notice any difference but then he saw, subtly, the change in Merlin's demeanour. The warlock's eyes were drooping, threatening to close but he kept looking at Arthur through his eyelashes and something within that connection stirred Arthur's body unwillingly; his hips ground down against Merlin's lap, a sharp contact that was possibly too good to be true. It made Merlin's eyes close and Arthur frown. He did not want his body to act alone so he dismounted Merlin unceremoniously and lay along Merlin's side, propping his head on his hand and staring at Merlin's face.

With his free hand draped over Merlin's chest, he continued to rub his thumb against one of his nipples before tracing his flat palm down Merlin's stomach. When he reached the dip of the belly button he rubbed his thumb around it and his fingers tangled within the fine hairs below. Arthur kept eye contact with Merlin, challenging him, and their blue eyes stayed locked as Arthur's hand began to unlace Merlin's trousers. He slipped his hand beneath them and inched closer until finally his palm was wrapping around the length of Merlin's erection.

The reaction was not what Arthur had expected. Merlin's hips bucked upward wildly and a shiver ran through his body that looked like a seizure to Arthur. Upon instinct Arthur removed his hand, worried he'd done something painful that he hadn't noticed. He looked into Merlin's eyes and the man was opening his mouth, trying to speak but failing. Instead he nodded and Arthur stared, unsure if he was reading him correctly. Merlin nodded again. Arthur decided this was consent to continue and a smirk played upon his lips when he wrapped his hand around Merlin's length for a second time. This time Merlin did not launch off the bed so Arthur ran a thumb over the head and Merlin lost the ability to stare at Arthur anymore. It was just as well; all Arthur wanted to do was watch Merlin react to his touch.

And react he certainly did. As Arthur began moving his hand up and down along the length of Merlin's cock, he watched as shivers ran from Merlin's shoulders all the way to his toes. Arthur was completely fascinated by this reaction and watched, again and again as Merlin twisted and shifted beneath his hand. His hold had slickened against the erection, making it easier to pump up and down and rub his thumb against the slit of the head. Merlin's head fell back eventually, a small arch to his neck that exposed his throat so fully, Arthur could not stop himself from leaning forward and sucking against it. First the adam's apple and then he licked into that small hallow and was almost surprised by the humming that ran beneath it. It sounded like a rumble rising beneath Arthur's mouth and it erupted as a moan from Merlin's lips.

It was almost too beautiful for Arthur to comprehend. He found himself pulling away, staring at the almost translucent skin, feeling as if he could see rather than hear the moaning within Merlin's body. Arthur lowered his mouth against Melrin's skin once more, this time around the bud of a pink nipple, sucking once, twice and then nipping lightly. It was then that he heard Merlin murmuring something; Arthur knew it was words but he couldn't understand them. He forgot all about trying to decipher them, though, because Merlin's waist was growing taunt and now his hips were aligning thrusts against Arthur's hand. He was reaching the edge and Arthur wanted to be with him when he did. Arthur captured Merlin's lips with his own and Merlin responded, mouth moving sloppy and slow as his breath came out in large huffs.

When Merlin came, Arthur almost did too, because he heard Merlin speaking against his lips—hot, low, heavy and so incredibly arousing. It was a moan that transposed itself into Arthur's name, drawn out long and shaking until Merlin could do nothing more than buck against Arthur's hand and moan warmly inside of Arthur's mouth. Arthur kept his hand around Merlin even as the bloke shook and shivered and lowered back against the bed with gasping breaths. Arthur did not think he had ever seen anything so beautiful.

Arthur was surprised again by Merlin, who had hardly begun to breath normally before he was moving, pushing Arthur's back into the sheets and laying his slender frame over Arthur's body. Arthur couldn't protest and there was no need to because Merlin was kissing him so hungrily now that thought was not necessary. The dark haired man pulled away too quickly for Arthur's liking but then he was sucking at the side of Arthur's throat and maybe that was even better than the snogging—Arthur really couldn't decide. Merlin kissed his way down Arthur's chest but he ignored the pink nipples and traced the center of Arthur's stomach until he could slip his tongue into Arthur's belly button and the prince really had not expected that. He found himself lifting up, resting now on his elbows so that he could see just exactly what Merlin was doing.

His long and slender fingers were unfastening Arthur's trousers and then he was gone, standing and tugging down Arthur's trousers and his pants and possibly even his dignity and throwing them on the floor. As he stood there, trousers hanging loosely on his hips, looking at Arthur completely naked on the bed, he started to smile. Arthur thought it was a strange reaction but didn't have time to think about it because Merlin descended on him and now he was wrapping his beautiful lips around Arthur's erection and it was the greatest feeling Arthur ever experienced. He tried his very hardest to stare at the top of Merlin's dark head looming above him, watch as his cock appeared and disappeared beneath the warlock's lips but he was not quite as strong as he had previously thought. He felt Merlin's fingers wrap securely around his balls and finger them and then Arthur lost his composure when Merlin pulled back and sucked gingerly against the head of his penis. Arthur's head fell back and collided with the headboard of his bed and he _did not_ care at all because those beautiful and amazing lips were still around him and sucking and licking and driving Arthur to the brink faster than he'd like to admit to.

He knew that Merlin could feel his hips bucking of their own accord, ready to release an orgasm the likes of which Arthur had never known. Just as he felt it—deep within the confines of his stomach—begin to grow inside him, Merlin released his erection from his warm mouth and blew against the head of Arthur's cock. It was so surprising, so ludicrous, so impossibly cold and so outlandishly erotic that Arthur erupted with something close to a scream. He could feel Merlin shifting, sitting beside him but he couldn't move, he couldn't even think. His hips stayed arched in the air like stone, like they would never obey him again. His ragged breathing dissipated after what felt like hours to Arthur and he became aware that he was still holding himself up and allowed his body to relax against the sheets again. When he lifted his head, there was Merlin, staring down at him with Arthur's seed splattered across his face and looking as though he didn't even notice it was there. Arthur stared at him for minutes, trying to decipher what was in Merlin's eyes but eventually he could not help himself any longer; he laughed outright.

Behind squinted eyes, Arthur saw Merlin frown at him. Arthur pushed himself up to lean against the headboard and waited until he stopped laughing before saying, "Merlin."

"Why are you laughing at me?" Merlin looked almost as if he was pouting.

"Merlin. Wipe off your face." Arthur tried to restrain himself but he began to laugh again.

"_What!_ I didn't know if I was allowed…" Merlin trailed off and Arthur supposed that he realised just how stupid he sounded.

Merlin was huffing, put out, and snatched his tunic from the floor and wiped Arthur's mess off his face. Arthur got up too and went to the wardrobe, pulling out a pair of trousers he usually slept in. He kept muttering, "Really, Merlin, really," as he did, still chuckling lightly.

\------- 

Merlin woke in the early daylight hours in Arthur's bed. It took him a while to register that Arthur was not there with him. Merlin wondered just where he could have gone but collected his things and went back to Gaius' to clean up and change.

Arthur was in his chambers again when Merlin arrived with his breakfast. Arthur had his hands clasped together, chin rested upon them and he was staring at the wall so intently he didn't notice Merlin's presence until he'd placed the plate of food in front of him.

Merlin wondered if Arthur was alright, but the prince confirmed rather quickly that, no, he certainly was not alright at all. Merlin watched helplessly as Arthur sat up, looked at the plate on the table below him and backhanded it deliberately, sending food flying everywhere and the plate crashing against the bedpost with a ringing sound throughout the rooms.

"Clean that up," Arthur said low, harsh, and impossibly cruel, "and get me another plate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please download the amazing [fanmix](http://orangelusik.livejournal.com/20174.html) by orangelusik. It provided much of the background music for this chapter.


	4. Abrasively Unsuitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin both feel the anguish of their failing friendship, but neither can seem to right their capsizing relationship. They will both prove, however, that in times of great need they cannot leave each other to deal on his own.

Merlin felt like he was going to be sick. He began to sway on his feet and his stomach knotted itself so tightly he wanted to double over from the pain of it.

He didn't. He didn't do anything at first, but stare at Arthur like his life truly depended on Arthur's return gaze. He didn't get it. In fact, he didn't really get _anything_ right now, which meant his only real option was to do exactly what Arthur said and pretend that his heart wasn't ripping apart inside of his heaving chest.

Arthur kept a steady gaze on the wall. He controlled his breathing, his words, and his face. Arthur was in control of everything, except his heart, which was calling betrayal to his brain. _This isn't right_, his heart spoke frantically. _You can't do this to him._ His head replied, _I can if I have to. And I have to. Why? _ Arthur's heart asked and for once his brain had no rational answer. That didn't change anything, though, and Arthur stuck to his plan. This time his plan wouldn't fail. This time he'd make Merlin forget about him.

Merlin tried to rationalise to himself what was happening. Last night…they had been slightly drunk, but not enough that Merlin did not remember every moment of it. Merlin treasured every single touch and every careful kiss. How could Arthur not feel the same? Hadn't Arthur been the one to pursue him—to pursue _this_ twice now? Merlin would have never tried any of this if Arthur hadn't been the one initiating it.

Merlin almost ran into a cook when he entered the kitchens. "Whoa boy, watch it!" Merlin had to focus or he was going to end arse up on the floor wondering how he'd gotten there. "Why are you back already?" the same cook asked him.

"I…" he wasn't really sure what to respond with. The truth would hardly shock them, but he felt as if the truth wasn't really true. He felt like he had to protect Arthur from their negative thoughts, even when Arthur lived up to all they thought him to be. "I tripped and dropped the prince's breakfast. I need another plate." He had to somehow prove that this wasn't really Arthur that he was seeing; he had to show everyone that Arthur was better, kinder, wiser than people thought he was. Merlin had to prove it because if he didn't, he would have to face the reality that he was _wrong_.

Merlin had always been wrong about him, Arthur thought. He wasn't anything like the image of a prince that Merlin had somehow comprised in his mind. He wasn't caring and he wasn't really any better than his father was. Arthur would go to the grave denying his feelings for Merlin just as his father would go to his grave swearing he had nothing to do with magic.

They were both cowards.

Arthur wondered why everyone called him so brave when he'd never felt more of a coward than he did now. In fact, who _wasn't_ a coward in this bloody place?

Merlin.

Merlin was brave every damn day of his life. Merlin lived with his secret, denying it yet always keeping Arthur alive with it. Merlin risked his life and his very head to make sure that he, Arthur, lived to breathe another day. Maybe Arthur saved Merlin once or twice, but it would never summate to the bravery Merlin carried. Arthur was practically nothing compared to his manservant, and truly, Arthur didn't deserve his attention.

Arthur made his choice this morning, to be a coward and to run from the feelings that bubbled in his chest and made him slightly drunk when he thought on them. When Merlin returned, he would make the dark haired man hate him and then none of these problems would exist anymore. They would no longer be blurring the lines between royal and servant, between friend and lover, between prince and warlock. There would be no need to worry about what would happen to them if anyone were to find out because there would be nothing to find out.

Arthur knew it was the right decision to make as a future king, but as a person—as _Arthur_—it hurt him more than he would admit to even himself.  
Merlin considered not even going back. It would be easier for him to leave now, turn his back on Camelot and never look back. Arthur wouldn't mind, obviously, and he could find another servant easily enough. Merlin couldn't find another _friend_ so easily, but he would manage. He had lived before he met Arthur and he could live after him.

Couldn't he?

Despite his thoughts, he walked back to Arthur's chambers with the food. When he entered he half expected Arthur to throw something at him or try to throttle him. Arthur didn't even react when Merlin came in this time. He just started eating his food quietly and Merlin thought that maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe it was a lapse in judgment and Arthur had been afraid of…something.

Merlin wanted to curse himself for trying to be hopeful, for attempting to worm his way back into a situation in which he was never meant to be in. He knew he was not enough for Arthur, even _if_ the man were to admit he had a thing for blokes. Arthur was a future king of Camelot and what was Merlin? He was nothing and he never would be anything worthy of such a beautiful soul. Regardless of his confusion and his heartache, Arthur was the most beautiful and loving person Merlin had ever met and probably the best he ever would set eyes on.

Merlin wished there was something he could say. He wished he had the magic to turn back time and erase the night from their minds and allow them to go back to who they were before. He did not want to leave Arthur's service, but most of all, he did not want to lose Arthur's friendship. He would take a lifetime of secret pining for Arthur over not having any relationship with the man at all. Merlin would move the mountains if only he could change the mistake that they had made that had felt so right to Merlin and apparently so very wrong to Arthur.

He felt sick and desperate. He felt despair, worse than having to poison Morgana, worse than letting loose the dragon's fury, worse than anything Merlin had ever known. He didn't want to feel this hopeless and he hated having this hole growing inside his chest, threatening to swallow him completely until he was nothing more than a distant memory.

Merlin had to do _something_. He had to try and fix this; there had to be some way to rectify things. "Arthur—" is all he managed.

Arthur almost started at the sound of his name. _No. No, don't do this. Don't make me do this._ He pleaded to Merlin with his mind, trying his hardest to convey his desperation to the other man. He did not want to act this way; he did not want to destroy whatever wonderful bond the two of them had formed. But what choice did he have? They could never be whatever it is they were trying to be and Arthur could never stand dragging Merlin along with him in some secret affair. He deserved so much better than Arthur could give him and in any other life, Arthur would gladly give Merlin everything, but in this life, in this world, Arthur had to give himself to his people and his own desires came last.

He would be damned if he held Merlin captive there with him as some ludicrous reticence he was obliged not to talk about. "You will address me as _lord_ or _sire_, Merlin. I will not be disrespected by the likes of _you_." Arthur practically choked on the taste of the words as they left his mouth. He kept his face free of his discomfort, hopefully sending the message to Merlin that they would _never_ make that mistake again.

It wasn't a mistake, though.

Merlin's heart skipped a beat when he heard Arthur's reply. So nothing had changed and Arthur had been serious when he'd tossed the plate across the room. There was nothing that Merlin could say or do to change Arthur's mind. It was already made up and that mind said Merlin was a _freak_ and Arthur wanted nothing to do with him. This had to be even worse than what Merlin had imagined of Arthur when he found out that Merlin had magic. He knew that day would be terrible, but he could never have imagined that pain until he felt worse than it now. If Arthur found out now, it wouldn't hold a candle to Merlin's current pain. He half-heartedly wanted to just blurt it out and have it done with.

But there was something in Merlin that was speaking to him, voice growing louder as the time ticked past. He couldn't understand the whisper yet, but he had a feeling he would know exactly what the voice had to say the longer he waited.

Arthur kept his gaze on his plate, which was almost clean now and therefore left him with no excuse not to look at Merlin. He wished Merlin would lash out at him. He deserved it and he wanted the confirmation that Merlin would be ok so long as he thought the worst of Arthur. His hatred would help him move on easier and all Arthur wanted was for everything to be easy for Merlin. His own discomfort didn't matter to him. He was to be king one day and he'd be so busy that he wouldn't have to worry about his own pain. Merlin didn't have such an excuse so it was Arthur's job to give him one.

It took him ages, but he finally raised his gaze to meet Merlin's. "Do you need your hand held, Merlin?" he should have chosen better words. "You know what you need to do, do you not? You aren't getting them done standing there staring at me like an imbecile." He didn't realise how difficult it would actually be to stare at Merlin pointedly, not giving way to his inner struggle. It was difficult, but necessary and Arthur was nothing if not stubborn.

Merlin knew how stubborn Arthur was, but he was pretty damned stubborn himself. The voice that had been making its way to his ears was speaking clearly to him now. He didn't deserve this. Regardless of Arthur's status and Arthur's ability to be a complete prat in order to hide his own feelings, he did not have the right to snap at Merlin like a spoiled child. He didn't have the right to lash out at _anyone_ and Merlin wouldn't stand for it. He wouldn't allow Arthur the satisfaction of seeing him crumble beneath the weight of his insults.

He may not know of the difficulty in which Arthur steeled against his feelings, but he knew exactly how it felt to do just that. "Yes, _sire_, I will get to it then." His disdain was impossible to miss and he dared Arthur, blue eyes to blue eyes, to reprimand him for it. Apparently his gaze was just as hard and possibly wilder than Arthur's, because the prince said nothing and Merlin swore he saw him flinch a little. He held his gaze a few moments longer and then turned and left without asking for leave.

Arthur could have been punched in the gut just then and would not have felt it. This was exactly the reaction he'd been trying to elicit from Merlin, so why exactly did he feel so _awful_ after getting it?

\-------

Merlin felt betrayed. He would say by Arthur, but really he felt betrayed by his own feelings. Anything that could have felt so wonderful to him should not have ended the way it had. He had thought he'd found the world and now he felt like he didn't even _belong_ in it. If he'd never allowed himself these feelings to begin with he wouldn't have had to deal with the pain now.

For the most part, he tried his hardest not to talk to Arthur at all. Arthur seemed of the same mind and didn't speak to him unless it was necessary. It would have been a wonderful reprieve if it didn't still feel so bloody odious. Regardless of his front, Merlin wanted nothing more than to fall into Arthur's strong embrace and cry away his fears. It would never be an option for Merlin and if he thought hard enough, it never really _had_ been. It'd been a sick fantasy of his sadistic mind, brought to light so quickly and snatched away even faster.

He had to mentally prepare himself before he could enter Arthur's chambers and even that didn't always help when he finally saw Arthur's face. The more time that past, the worse Arthur looked. He was pushing himself to the brink, not eating or sleeping properly and training constantly—it was too much and even the knights were seeing it now. They were telling him to take it easy, that there was no reason for him to be pressing this hard and Arthur would toss away their concerns as childish worrying and continued draining himself.

Merlin could see that he was trying to erase the stain in his mind of the night they'd spent together. He felt stupid for reveling in it when Arthur was trying his damnedest to forget it entirely. There was nothing that Merlin could do to keep it from emerging, though. Even when he focused his energy on hating Arthur with every fiber of his being, that Arthur from the night of his party would surface in his brain, the fascination and the tenderness and the willingness to be had by Merlin. It was too much to let go. It was too _amazing_ to forget.

And even as Arthur continued to treat him like a lowly piece of trash, Merlin was still worried about him. He was worried that Arthur would kill himself trying to scrape this event from his mind. He was looking like an old man now with all the strain he was putting on himself. If he continued to take it further, there wouldn't be much anyone could do for him and that scared Merlin. Just because Arthur hated him didn't mean he should allow Camelot to fall into chaos without a future ruler. How could he talk sense into Arthur though? It wasn't even possible to _talk_ to him now, not really.

Merlin wanted to hate him. He really wanted to hate Arthur Pendragon, but it wasn't in him. The love, no matter how he tried to deny it, was too strong and it wouldn't be denied.

He really did _love_ this idiot of a man. It scared him more than anything, even his own magic. Merlin was afraid that his love for Arthur was going to destroy him just as Arthur's hatred for Merlin was going to destroy the prince.

\-------

Arthur could not clear his clouded mind so the only option he found was staying so busy that his mind would not have time to think at all. He trained night and day, ate little and slept less. It was difficult at first and made him pass out a few times, but lately he found a balance that would kept him functional if not really _awake_. He kept at his sword fighting, at his mace training, at his hunting and fishing; he spent more time outside the castle than inside of it and usually had his knights along with him. He didn't press them as hard as he was pressing himself, but they were still grumbling each time they left the prince alone to continue practicing.

Arthur was training for a war that no one else knew existed. He was battling his demons the only way he knew how: hand to hand. But it seemed the harder that he tried, the harder they fought back. They were always two steps ahead of him and he hated his body for being too weak to actually stand a chance.

Arthur was angry with himself, but he lashed out at everyone _else_ and no one really wanted to be in his presence anymore. He was fighting with his father about almost everything, as though building up an enemy would ease his inner discord. It only made him feel worse, but he didn't stop after he started. There was no reason to. At this rate the people would hate him more than they hated his father. It was ironic since all he had ever wanted was to be a better king than Uther—to have his people love him and not fear him.

He should have expected a retort from Gawain, but it still surprised Arthur when it finally came. He'd been so focused on pushing his body and trying not to think about Merlin that he barely registered anyone else anymore.

Arthur was drilling the knights, harshly, and there was a moment in which a ripple of uneasiness ran through the armour clad men and Gawain stopped performing the moves Arthur called out, a look of defiance on his face. It took Arthur a moment to notice it, but when he did, the other knights stopped moving to watch. Arthur sighed inwardly to himself because he didn't want to have this confrontation but knew that it was unavoidable. He would never be able to control these men so long as one of the best of them didn't follow his orders. He really had no choice.

"Is there a particular reason you aren't doing as I tell you to, Gawain? You are disrupting the drills and I hope you have a _fantastic_ reason as to why, because if you don't there will be hell to pay." Arthur kept his voice low and even, but the threat dripped from his every word.

Gawain shifted, seemingly unsure of his next move, but he spoke, "You need to start listening to the _King's_ orders, Prince Arthur, before you expect me to listen to _yours_."

Arthur's eyebrows tried to leap off his forehead. "I listen and answer to the King, Gawain," Arthur began, walking slowly toward the knight. "But as the crowned prince of Camelot, I have certain power of my own and I will wield it as I see fit. If you have a problem with that, you need to take it up with _me_, knight."

Arthur came to a stop in front of the man, who was taller than Arthur, but built about the same. Gawain faltered for a moment, the proximity Arthur had to him now seemed to intimidate him. Not enough, apparently, because Gawain removed the gauntlet from his hand and threw it at Arthur's feet.

To be honest, Arthur was impressed by the man's gall. He obviously was extremely loyal to Uther and Arthur only hoped he remained loyal to the Pendragon name after Uther passed on. Arthur bent down and picked up the gauntlet. "I accept your challenge, Knight Gawain, but I will not fight you to the death. We have few knights as it is and losing another one to a mere disagreement is not something even the King would allow."

Gawain agreed, though Arthur was certain he wouldn't have tried to kill him anyhow. He was brave, but he wasn't foolish. Arthur continued, "If I win this fight, you will follow my orders without question or you will step down as a knight of Camelot. I will inherit my father's thrown one day and when that day comes, if you are not _with_ me, then you are _against_ me and I will not have my knights questioning _my_ authority. Do you understand my conditions, fellow knight of Camelot?"

Gawain straightened himself and nodded to Arthur. Arthur had the servants prepare the fighting grounds and set the duel for the following morning. When Gawain agreed they broke for the day and Arthur went back to his chambers. Mentally preparing himself for the fight was going to be more difficult than the physical preparation. He admired Gawain's courage and loyalty and it was painful to Arthur to have to raise his sword against the man. He also knew that neither of them could back down now, or they would both risk being thought of as cowards.

When Merlin came in with his dinner, Arthur, for once, was lost in thoughts that were not of the dark haired man. He spoke to Merlin while looking out the window, "Prepare my battle armour. Tomorrow morning I duel with Gawain." Arthur did not look for Merlin's reaction, though he was fairly certain he knew what it was.

Merlin gaped at the back of Arthur's head. "What?" he asked, only out of habit more than anything else. He had heard exactly what the prince had said but he had to be mistaken. There was no way that Arthur was planning to duel with Gawain. He just _couldn't_. "To the death?" came Merlin's rebounded question, because his first was not going to get answered.

Arthur shook his head, still gazing out the window. "No, but the fight is still important—almost _more_ important. If I lose, my knights will never respect me." Arthur hadn't really meant to be that honest about it, but he should have suspected such with Merlin about, even with his current plan to keep him at arm's length. He had to add something hastily or risk losing the progress he'd already made with Merlin.

He spun to face the warlock. "So I will not risk losing on a mistake made by you with my armour. If you fail me now then you fail this kingdom and I will have you executed." Though Arthur wished it were not true, it actually was. If he were made a laughing stock because of something else Merlin did he would have no choice in the matter. Merlin had ruined his standing with the court before this and it cold _not_ happen again no matter the feelings Arthur harboured for him.

Arthur felt sick when he saw the anger flash in Merlin's eyes. The man said nothing, gave no clue that he was furious besides his gaze but it was enough to strike Arthur dumb. He said nothing else and sat down to eat his food quietly. He didn't look up until Merlin had left the room and when he did stare at the closed door he felt a hot tear slide down his cheek.

When Merlin burst through the front door of Gaius's house, he was fuming and on the verge of destruction. Gaius knew that Merlin's passion ran hot, but this was on the verge of terrifying.

"Merlin," Gaius spoke slowly. "Calm down, my son. What is the matter?"

Gaius watched as Merlin deposited Arthur's armour unceremoniously on the floor. He was staring so angrily at the armour it looked like his grudge lay with the pieces of metal and not the man who wore them. Merlin allowed himself to flop down on a chair at Gaius's table and huff loudly. "I hate him," Merlin spoke finally, angry though not entirely convincing.

"Arthur?" Gaius asked him, but Merlin was certain Gaius already knew the answer.

"Yes bloody _Arthur_. I hate him! I'm going to quit! I'm not putting up with that insufferable prat anymore!" Technically, speaking of the king or his son in such a manner could get someone killed. And technical or not, Merlin did not care.

"Merlin," Gaius spoke as he sat down across from the warlock. "Arthur is your friend."

"Ha!" Merlin's laughter was bitterer than he'd ever heard from himself before. "_Friend?_ Friend! Friends don't do this to each other!"

Merlin should have predicted the arrival of this question, but he was a little distracted and failed to prepare himself. "What has Arthur done?"

Now he couldn't very well tell Gaius that he and Arthur had done what they had done together and then Arthur had started treating him like complete shit. Gaius was understanding, but Merlin wasn't so sure he'd approve of him having had sex with the prince. This entire animosity between them was because of that night which left Merlin very little wiggle room for explanation. He began to stutter, "Uh, he—I—we—it's nothing, really," he lied finally, feeling a little bad about it but knowing it was the only option he had. "I've just—he's been a jerk and I've been having a bad day."

He could see Gaius's questioning glance, knowing fully well Gaius did not believe a word he was stammering out. It was best to distract Gaius from the matter entirely. "Arthur is to fight Gawain in the morning." Hopefully that would serve to redirect Gaius's mind.

He was right. "What? Why?"

"Apparently Gawain has not been happy with Arthur for a while. Gawain worships everything Uther does and because Arthur hasn't been agreeing with him, it seems that Gawain has issued him a challenge."

Gaius looked slightly pale. "Not to the death, certainly?"

Merlin shook his head. "No, I don't think Arthur would have allowed it. He does like Gawain and thinks that he is a great knight, so I can't see Arthur wanting to lose him." The way he spoke about Arthur then really betrayed his supposed hatred for the prince. Gaius didn't seem to notice it, however.

"Gawain is not as great a fighter as Prince Arthur, but he will certainly prove to be a challenge. Do you know the terms?"

"No, Arthur didn't tell me. He just said they were dueling in the morning. He had told me of Gawain's discomfort before so I assume it's the reason for the duel. It's his way to rebuke the Prince for not following every order the King gives."

"Tomorrow stands to be an interesting day, indeed. Let us have dinner, Merlin," Gaius busied himself with fixing a meal for the two of them and Merlin's thoughts strayed to Arthur and his fight in the morning. Merlin had no doubt that he would win, but he still couldn't help but worry about Arthur's safety. He was always getting into these ridiculous situations. Merlin could only hope that things between the two knights would resolve by the end of this.

\-------

As was custom, the kingdom was set to watch the duel between the two knights. They were not told the exact terms (this was considered privileged information for the court only) but they knew enough to pay close attention.

Merlin would rather not have gone, but he had to be there to dress Arthur's armour. Normally Merlin would have been excited to see Arthur fight (worried, of course, but still enamoured by Arthur's skill) but these weren't normal circumstances. He did not talk to Arthur while he helped him into his armour and Arthur didn't seem in the mood to talk either. He was concerned, Merlin figured, about either of the two knights getting hurt on the field, but Merlin was certain Arthur would be able to win and not bring about any injuries.

After handing the prince his sword, Merlin watched the blond walk out of the tent without a backward glance. Merlin supposed that it made it easier for him, but that didn't make him happy about it.

Merlin stood near the tent and watched the men on the field. When Uther finished explaining the match he called for it to begin. Merlin watched as the two knights' swords collided above their heads, the noise so loud it echoed through the arena. Everyone seemed still and quiet as they watched Gawain and Arthur battle.

At first it seemed that Gawain had the upper hand. It was entirely possible considering how hard Arthur had been driving his body lately. He was forced backward as he parried Gawain's blows left, then right, then left again. Gawain swung his sword sideways, trying to take a slash at Arthur's chest, but Arthur jumped back and the swing missed him. When Gawain was recovering from this Arthur charged forward and tried to take a slash at Gawain but his blow was parried at the last second.

They stood deadlocked for a moment, staring at each other before they both backed up to their starting stances to begin afresh. Gawain came forward, swinging toward Arthur from above but Arthur parried the blow easily and pushed his sword against Gawain's so that the man had to back away to keep from tripping on his own feet. Arthur seemed to surge with energy and was slashing left and right toward Gawain, pushing the man further and further toward the edge of the arena. Gawain had no choice but to stand against the wall of the spectator seats, Arthur pressing his blade harder and harder so that Gawain's arms almost gave way from the pressure on his sword.

Gawain needed to do something quickly or Arthur was going to disarm him. He dropped down on his haunches which left Arthur's sword to clang into the wood of the wall and allow Gawain to skirt to the side and escape from Arthur's trap. It did not seem as though Arthur was going to loose his sword in time to parry Gawain's advance on him, but just as he wedged his sword from the wood he spun around to stop Gawain's sword from colliding with his head.

Merlin started to get a little uneasy as the fight progressed. Arthur was a better fighter than all the knights, but he looked like he was really struggling against Gawain's advances and with a weak constitution, he might just lose. Not only would that be shame to his name but it would also be something Arthur would never forgive himself for. The last thing Arthur would allow is to be the butt end of jokes when it came to his bravery and skills at fighting. If he didn't win, Arthur would consider himself as good as dead.

Arthur seemed to be gaining the advantage, though, so Merlin set these thoughts aside. With any luck this would be over soon and Merlin could get away from Arthur as soon as possible. For once, Merlin really _did_ want to be out of the prince's presence.

Gawain made a sloppy slash toward Arthur that would cost him the match. Arthur hooked his sword to Gawain's and was able to swing and disarm the other knight. Arthur held his sword point to Gawain's chest for a few minutes until the man conceded and knelt before the prince. When he did, Arthur thrust his sword into the ground and walked forward to place a hand on the man's shoulder and told him to rise. Gawain did not looked pleased with himself, but he embraced the prince gracefully and left the arena with a bowed head. Arthur would usually say something to the onlookers then, but instead he picked up his sword and walked straight into the tent with Merlin afoot.

As Merlin undressed Arthur's armour, he noticed the prince was breathing heavily. Of course he would be tired, but this wasn't his norm and Merlin was worried. He had right to be, too, because when Merlin pulled off Arthur's plate armour, the prince collapsed before him. Merlin was not fast enough to catch him, but luckily he slumped to the ground and didn't hit his head on anything. Merlin left him to call frantically for Gaius who made his way to the tent as quickly as he could.

When Gaius entered the tent he frowned. "What happened?" he asked Merlin and knelt beside the prince.

"He just collapsed when I was undressing his armour." Despite his anger, Merlin was terrified that something was very wrong with Arthur. "Do you know what it is?"

Gaius shook his head and motioned to Merlin to help him place Arthur on a stretcher. "He's dehydrated. I think he may be overly exhausted and though it isn't very threatening, he is going to need bed rest for quite some time to regain his normal strength. The idea that he managed to defeat Gawain like this is almost inconceivable. Any longer and he would have fainted in the arena."

Uther entered the tent then, worried that Arthur had been injured. Gaius explained again to Uther what he had said to Merlin. Uther called for Merlin and another servant to carry Arthur into the castle to his rooms. Merlin stood at the wing of the chambers as Gaius and Uther fretted over the prince's unconscious frame. Merlin wanted so badly to sit beside Arthur's bedside and hold his hand and wipe his brow but he knew that was impossible. When Gaius and the king finally left, Merlin said he would stay with the prince and watch over him. Uther told him to go to Gaius first if there was any change and left Merlin alone with the blond man.

Merlin stood by the door, staring down at Arthur's face with watery eyes. It did not matter how much anger he felt toward Arthur and his recent behaviour, he would never be angry enough to wish anything bad on him, especially not this. It might be a blessing, though, because Arthur had no choice but to rest now and would surely be scolded by his father for being so careless with his own health. This would _hopefully_ prove to Arthur just how ridiculous he had been acting.

Merlin should not have been surprised when Guinevere showed up in the late afternoon, but he was. He was also slightly annoyed, which made him feel like an ass and an idiot. He _liked_ Gwen, dearly, and yet he was always jealous whenever she was around Arthur. And Merlin knew that in the end, Guinevere was going to be Arthur's queen and Merlin was not going to be anything but a bloke he shagged once and was done with the next morning. He should not be bitter toward his friend, but he was and he couldn't help it from surfacing when she showed up to check on Arthur.

"Oh Merlin, is he alright?" Her hand went from her mouth to her heart and back again. She looked just as worried as Merlin felt.

Merlin replied stiffly, "Gaius said he should be fine. He's dehydrated and exhausted from the way he's been pushing himself. His body decided to tell him it needed the rest after all…" he trailed off as she walked to the side of the prince's bed and put her hand over his brow. Merlin had to actually contain himself or he would have moved forward then and pushed Gwen aside and _away_ from Arthur. He would not have any explanation for that nor would he have been happy to have done such a thing to Gwen. Before all of this he was so happy for the two of them but now he wished Gwen would disappear entirely.

"I'll stay with him," Guinevere said and she had barely gotten out the words before Merlin was replying.

"No, I'll be here. There's no need." He tried his best not to sound angry. She probably noticed the edge to his voice but hopefully she took it for concern for his friend.

She looked up at him and nodded. "Ok. I'll come back tomorrow if that's alright?"

Merlin only nodded at her and waited for her to leave. She did, eventually, after leaning down and kissing Arthur on the cheek. Merlin kind of hated her then and then hated himself for thinking like this. Arthur wasn't _his_ and he had no reason to be agonizing over him as if he had a claim on the blond. But they had had _something_ that night and didn't it mean something? As far as he could see, it had only meant something to him and Arthur had regretted the whole thing.

Merlin sank down on the floor next to Arthur's bed, looking at the wall with blurry eyes. It was not fair for Arthur to string him along like this, kissing him and touching him and pulling a full roundabout and being a total prat. Arthur may have been physically exhausted but Merlin was so emotionally exhausted that he wished he could rid himself of these feelings once and for all.

Merlin awoke on the floor next to Arthur's bed the next morning. The prince had yet to stir so Merlin took his leave when Uther and Gaius showed up again. Arthur slept all day and he did not wake up until the middle of the night. His movements woke Merlin up and the bleary eyed warlock tried to wake himself as best he could to help Arthur with a drink and some food. After a while Arthur asked, "How long have I been asleep?"

Merlin held his calm and replied, blandly, "Almost two days, sire."

Arthur looked surprised, but the shock wore off quickly. He still sounded groggy and Merlin had a feeling he was going to pass out again fairly soon after he finished eating. That was for the best.

When Arthur finished eating, he handed the plate to Merlin and offered a quiet "thank you" to the warlock. Merlin was overly surprised by the words, because Arthur seemed to blush at his gaping mouth. At least he had the humility to be ashamed of himself, Merlin thought bitterly.

"If you will be able to tend to yourself, my lord, I will take my leave." Merlin spoke in monosyllables. He was glad that Arthur was ok but he was still completely enraged by his previous behaviour and was not going to forgive the man because he happened to say 'thank you' for once.

Arthur felt tired, slow and sore, but Merlin's reaction was enough to take him from emotionally inept to an emotional wreck. He nodded numbly. "You may go, Merlin." Merlin did not waste any time in scurrying from Arthur's rooms and Arthur could see that Merlin really did hate him now. He could still see the dark haired man pitching him worried and thoughtful glances before but now…now Arthur had truly succeeded in pushing Merlin away.

For the first time in a very long time, Arthur began to cry. The tears that streaked his face felt somewhat foreign to him, but as the sobs heaved his chest violently he remembered exactly what it was to be utterly miserable. He had marveled at Merlin's broken frame when he found him in the forest, but now Arthur could easily take his place. He felt sick, physically, but his heart hurt him more than any fatigue could. He had gotten what he wanted by making Merlin hate him but he was not prepared for how badly it would actually make him feel. Arthur was always the sort to talk tough and not let small things bother him but this was not small—this was even bigger than he had ever imagined.

He did not realise the extent in which he cared for Merlin until now, when he was faced with having to live his life without him. Having Merlin beside him as a friend would have been better than this. He would give anything to be able to get up and follow Merlin, to plead with him to forgive him for his complete lack of common sense, but when he needed it the most, his strength was failing him. It was his own fault, of his own making, but still he cursed his body for being weak _now_ of all times. He wanted so desperately to ask for Merlin's forgiveness but really, did he deserve it? He'd been stupid enough to play the prick in order to push the other man away, so why would he even merit any second thought from Merlin?

Merlin, who had been nothing but patient and kind with Arthur while he tried to work through his own idiocy, who had been decent enough to kiss him and touch him and _oh god_ was Arthur a twit. He'd really cocked up this entire situation and now he was fairly certain he wasn't going to be able to fix it. He was worried that he had already done more damage than was reparable this time.

Arthur cried himself to sleep, too exhausted to continue berating himself for his own ludicrously moronic behaviour.

\-------

Merlin did not see Arthur for at least two days after he'd gotten better. Arthur allowed him the space and Merlin was being selfish enough to take it. He couldn't stay away forever, though, and the dreaded day finally came when Merlin would have to return to Arthur's service. Merlin kept thinking, _why not just quit?_ Now that Merlin was completely convinced that Arthur was a total ass it would be easy enough to resign from his service. He would be better off just helping Gaius with his patients and never setting eyes on Arthur again. Gaius would be happy for the help and he would forgive Merlin eventually for giving up on Arthur. He wouldn't force Merlin to keep serving the prince who really cared nothing about anyone but himself.

It would be better for the both of them to resign his position, so Merlin set forth to do just that. He would march up to the prince and say, _Arthur, you are a complete prat and selfish and a huge ass and I don't want anything to do with you anymore!_ So that was a little dramatic, but Merlin had his entire trip to the castle to modify the speech to something more acceptable and a little less childish.

Merlin did not make it back to the castle.

Just as he was entering the confines of Camelot, three men in masks attacked him. One man hit him over the head from behind, causing Merlin to fall forward into the arms of the second man, who brought up a knobby knee and collided it with Merlin's stomach. Merlin doubled over from the pain, slamming against the ground on his knees painfully. The first man kicked at Merlin, shooting shocks up and down Merlin's left side. Merlin hit the ground on all fours, tears and spit mixing with the dirt and caking on his face. He had no time to think, no time to retaliate. Just when he thought the nightmare had ended, he erupted with the agonising malady of another blow. He twisted helplessly on the ground as one man clasped his hands together and brought them down to Merlin's head. He was about to faint from exhaustion, but there was one last anguish that brought Merlin's senses alive with fire; a man was standing on his calf and his thigh and he jumped and Merlin felt his bones shatter beneath the weight.

He hardly realised he was screaming, but it was enough to rouse a spectator to the scene. All that Merlin could remember before he slipped into an unconscious state was the fierce howling of an enraged man, descending on Merlin's attackers.

When Arthur looked back on this day, he would remember with acute clarity the feeling of devastating despondency that overtook him when he fell upon the scene of Merlin and the bandits. Arthur was making his patrols, trying to save face with the community in which he'd exiled himself from. Everyone was slow to accept his kindness at first, thinking it was a trick. They would come to trust him again, but it would take time to heal the wounds he'd created. It was better late than never for Arthur, though, so he tried his hardest not to feel dejected when another maiden flinched at his approach.

He had rounded the corner and made his way to the gates of Camelot only to have his ears bombarded by the most painful and agonising scream imaginable. Arthur's body went on full alert as he bounded toward the sound and was struck dumb when his eyes drank in the sight of the spectacle. Three men were kicking and punching at a crumpled frame enveloped in a blue tunic, brown coat and red scarf drenched with blood, sweat and dirt. Arthur's brain slowed down and he felt the entire world stop around him, leaving him alone to his desperate attempts at rationalising the situation. It did not take Arthur more than a moment to decide there was no rational explanation and he only had one option to take.

He unsheathed his sword and bounded across the drawbridge, eyes alit with fire and malice, mouth screaming acrimony he would never be able to truly vocalise. He could not think, he could not speak; he could only act. He had to _kill_ them. They were hurting Merlin and they had to _die_. With his sword high above his head, he descended on the men with ferocity that a starving man would approach a live rabbit with.

Arthur's eyes filled with bloodlust as he came down on the bandits, trying to fight them all at the same time. They came at the prince with knives, leaving the broken warlock forgotten in the dirt. They were quick, but Arthur was infuriated and they never stood a chance. Arthur could not feel the small cuts break his skin; he only felt the pounding of his heart in his ears—his blood pumping adrenaline in overdrive to his brain. He was slashing wildly and purposefully and hitting his marks with inane accuracy.

His sword came down and chopped off one man's arm, blood spraying Arthur's face and all over the dirt around them. He could taste the blood in his open, screaming mouth but he ignored it. The man who had lost an arm was screaming too, but Arthur silenced him when he plunged his sword directly into the man's heart. When Arthur jerked back his sword, the man crumpled to the ground in a bloody heap.

The other two bandits came alive with a similar fury to Arthur's, but they would never know the love that fueled Arthur's rage and allowed him to destroy them with unnatural finesse. The second bandit came at Arthur, but Arthur lopped off his head in mid-descent. The man crumpled in front of the blond prince like a useless rag doll.

The last bandit tried to outsmart the prince; he fond his way behind Arthur as he was killing the second man and grabbed Arthur by his hair, yanking back his head and holding a knife to his throat. He yelled a warning into the prince's ear and Arthur laughed in response, driving back his sword into the man's thigh. With a howl of pain the man dropped the knife and Arthur pulled his sword free of the man's muscle. This bandit did not stay to be murdered, however, and began limping away as quickly as he could manage. He collapsed not far from where Arthur stood but the prince was busy gathering up Merlin into his arms. He began to cry inconsolably as he carried Merlin's limp frame through the streets of Camelot toward the court physician's house. He cradled Merlin's head to his chest, whispering desperately into the dark hair, telling him to wake up, to look at him and not to leave him alone.

Gaius could not get any information from Arthur's shaking body. The physician could only treat the wounds he could find until Arthur could speak to him rationally. It took Arthur a quarter hour to stop sobbing and regain the ability to communicate. He said to Gaius, "He was attacked by three men at the gate. They were kicking and punching him while he was lying on the ground—I don't know what they had done to him before I got there…"

Gaius nodded. "I know for certain that his right leg is broken and he might have a few fractured ribs. Help me stunt the bleeding, sire, and then I will need you to hold him while I splint his leg." Arthur stood and stared down at the warlock helplessly. Tears streamed down his face again and his look was so wild he was certain Gaius thought he'd gone mental.

"Sire!" Arthur started, looking up at the physician. "Focus, Arthur. I need your help to save Merlin." These words seemed to stir Arthur's courage and the blond began to move and follow Gaius's instruction. First they had to stop the bleeding. But everywhere Arthur looked there was blood pooled and stained on the man's clothes and skin. Arthur could not tell what was his blood, what was the dying bandits' blood and what was from Arthur's own small injuries that had soaked into Merlin's clothes as he carted him through the city. Gaius was ripping off Merlin's clothes so Arthur helped him numbly, cringing at the blue, purple and brown bruises that littered Merlin's delicate pale skin. So many wounds, so many blemishes. How was Merlin going to survive this torture?

Arthur shook his head. If he thought like that, he'd die. He could not live if Merlin died so he had to focus on making sure that none of that ever happened. Merlin had saved Arthur's life, now it was Arthur's turn to make certain that Merlin lived to do it again.

"Hold this here, boy," Gaius spoke to Arthur, forgoing the royal honorifics. Arthur didn't even notice it. He held a cloth to the spot Gaius told him to, grip as tight as he could stand to make it without creating bruises of his own. Merlin's leg was bent at an impossible angle and Arthur had to swallow back bile at the sight of it. All Arthur wished was for Merlin to _wake up_, to use his magic he refused to admit existed and to fix himself so that Arthur could hold him and never let go.

"Ok, Arthur, that should do," Gaius told him as he tipped a potion into Merlin's mouth. When he finished he held up a rounded length of wood to Arthur. "Put this in his mouth and hold his shoulders down _firmly_. You cannot let him move, Arthur, or he risks worsening the condition of his leg. There is a great chance that he is going to come to when I set his leg, so make certain he doesn't move and be sure he keeps his teeth clenched on that wood or he might bite off his tongue." Gaius stopped speaking and pulled Arthur's gaze from Merlin's broken body to the older man's eyes. "Arthur, do you understand me? You must not make a mistake."

It was strange, the reaction Gaius's last word had on Arthur. All this time Arthur was trying to convince himself that he had made a horrible mistake by being with Merlin when the truth remained that the mistake was Arthur's inability to admit to his feelings. He had never before opened himself so wholly to someone else and he was completely terrified by the power he was giving away that could easily be used to destroy him. Arthur had never been in love—his affections for Guinevere had never pooled this deeply—but he was certain that this paralyzing sense of desire and horror had to be something akin to it. He could understand now why people said that they were so afraid to fall in love; the feeling was so beautiful and desolate at the same time that it would frighten the bravest of men.

And as Arthur gazed again down at Merlin's limp form, he felt his restraint breaking. Arthur could physically feel the strings cutting and his hesitance lifting from his shoulders. Arthur loved this buffoon more than anything in the world and he would be damned if he lost the chance to prove to Merlin that what they had shared was _not_ a mistake in any sense of the word. Arthur would not fall in love only to see it ripped from his fingers prematurely. He steeled himself and looked at Gaius again. "I understand."

Arthur opened Merlin's mouth and placed the block of wood between the unconscious man's teeth. Then he pressed himself against Merlin's chest, both hands encircling Merlin's upper arms to hold him steady so that Gaius could set the leg straight again. Gaius had predicted Merlin's response accurately. Merlin's eyes shot open wide when Gaius began to move his leg and his muffled cries and strained movements made Arthur feel like he was torturing him, but he did not let up. Arthur stared down into Merlin's face, trying to send him comforting thoughts but it was obviously not getting through to Merlin. In fact his eyes were so wild that Arthur was not certain if he was truly conscious. Merlin confirmed this suspicion by slumping back against the table when Gaius had finished setting his leg. "Is he supposed to do that?" Arthur asked, worried.

"Yes, he is exhausted and needs to sleep. I am done now, Arthur, you can release him." Arthur only did so reluctantly. He would rather lie down next to Merlin and never let him out of his sight again. "Arthur, can you get a servant to fetch me clean water and fresh towels? I need to be sure he does not catch fever in this condition."

Arthur nodded and stood up straight. "I will get them, Gaius. I will also bring you food from the castle." Arthur bounded to the door then froze, turning to face Gaius. "Will he be alright?" He did not bother hiding his concern.

Gaius nodded slowly. "Yes, Arthur, I think he will recover with time. Do not worry overmuch." The words fell on deaf ears, of course, because Arthur could not worry more than he was already.

\-------

Merlin, like Arthur, did not wake for an entire day. When he did come to, he ate briefly and drifted back into a sleep that was not as deep as before. After the second day Merlin was fully awake and able to sit up and speak and listen to the story of what had befallen him.

Arthur had been with him as much as he could possibly be. Uther had protested violently that Arthur was being ridiculous, but to everyone's surprise it was Gawain who stood up to Uther on Arthur's behalf. He took upon himself all of Arthur's required duties and freed Arthur up to be with his healing friend. Arthur was truly grateful to have someone so loyal as Gawain in Camelot. Any bad blood that had passed between the two of them was instantly resolved in Arthur's eyes.  
When Merlin woke to find Arthur at his bedside, he was more than a little shocked. His uncertainty was wiped away by the pain that flooded through his leg and he moaned and looked down at his injured limb. "What did you _do_ to me?" Merlin asked unconsciously, unaware of the tone and insinuation behind his words. When he looked up at Arthur he saw a pained look that startled him. "What—" Merlin began but Arthur silenced him.

"You're right. It _was_ my fault." Arthur said it as a matter of fact, but Merlin was certain that Arthur hadn't caused him to get attacked. So why was he trying to take the blame? "I was so stupid, Merlin, I shouldn't have—"

But Merlin did not find out what Arthur should not have done because Gaius came back and Guinevere was there as well to see how Merlin was fairing. Arthur left without pause, making Merlin's heart ache for the answers he had wanted to receive. Merlin tried his best to give Gwen his full attention, though, to try and make up for the rude way he'd treated her at Arthur's sickbed. When she left, Gaius sat down with Merlin.

"How is the pain?" the old man asked, fussing around some vials of potion at Merlin's side table.

"I would say unbearable, but if that were true I'd still be unconscious, I suppose." He offered Gaius a small smile that the man returned.

"You frightened us there for a while, Merlin, but I was certain you were strong enough to pull through. Here, take this," Gaius added as he gave Merlin a potion for pain.

"Right, well next time I'll be sure to tell the bandits that they have to beat up the next bloke because my friends will be entirely too worried about my health." He did not say it with malice but there was resentment making residence in his words.

"It was no one's fault, Merlin. It could not have been helped," answered Gaius, his eyes softening.

"Then why does Arthur think it was his fault?" Merlin could not help but ask.

Gaius sighed. "Arthur feels responsible for a lot of things, Merlin. He blames himself for not finding you sooner and saving you the pain. He blames himself for treating you badly and for any other hurt he has ever caused you since the day he met you. Arthur, like I told you before, is your _friend_ and he cares quite a great deal for you, Merlin. You should not be so quick to throw aside his friendship."

Merlin found it a little ironic that he would be the one getting rebuked when he lay in bed unable to _walk_. Gaius was right, of course, but when had Merlin ever been happy about Gaius being right? He wasn't going to start now. "I know," Merlin reluctantly replied. "Can you call for him to return so I can talk to him?"

Gaius laughed then, which brought a frown to Merlin's face. He gave the 'what is so funny, then?' stare that Gaius shook off. "He hasn't left, Merlin. He hasn't left at all, really. He's just outside." Gaius left the room and called the prince in and excused himself to give them some privacy.

Arthur looked as bashful as a child when he sat down on the bottom of Merlin's bed. Merlin said, "So you were the one that found me?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Arthur.

Arthur frowned at him. "Yes. I killed two of the men and the third got away." Arthur grew quiet and Merlin thought he had finished talking. He opened his mouth to speak but Arthur said quickly, "Merlin, why didn't you just…" but Arthur did not finish the sentence. He looked into Merlin's eyes, knowingly, and Merlin flinched. It was impossible that Arthur could know his secret and not hate him. Merlin refused to believe it and he did not offer Arthur an answer either. Arthur continued, "It will take some time for your bones to knit back together, but Gaius suspects you'll make a full recovery."

Merlin found himself blurting out, "Why have you been with me the entire time?" before he could stop himself.

Arthur looked into Merlin's eyes then, his own looking a bit watery. "Because I…" he didn't seem able to answer.

Merlin decided to answer for him. "I thought you hated me. You treated me like—"

Arthur cut him off then, words rushing from his mouth without thought. "I know I was terrible to you, Merlin. I couldn't help it. What I mean is, I wanted you to hate me. I wanted you to quit and never bother with me again. I wanted—"

"Why would you have wanted _that_?" Merlin asked. "I thought you were my friend and you wanted to make me hate you? Why the bloody hell would you do something stupid like that?"

Arthur spoke, "I…" but his mouth lay open with no words escaping it. Merlin wondered if he really had an excuse or if he was just stalling. "I was scared," Merlin heard the prince say quietly.

"Scared?" Merlin felt dumbfounded. "Scared of _what_?" It was only after he spoke that he really registered what Arthur could be referring to.  
Arthur felt like he was getting punched in the chest repeatedly. In fact, he was certain he would have rather that been the case right then. "Of us. Of what we did. Of…my _feelings_ for…" After all his silent practicing, Arthur still could not bring himself to be honest and to tell Merlin exactly what was on his mind. Usually Merlin just _knew_ and he wished the man would do so now.

"Your feelings for…me?" Merlin was probing at him.

Arthur was thankful for it. He just nodded.

"Wait," said Merlin and Arthur began to worry. "You're saying that you had feelings for me, but you were afraid of them so you treated me like shit instead?"

Arthur was aware of how stupid his logic really was. "Er, yeah, that's about it." Arthur stared down at his hands, feeling like the biggest idiot.

"Arthur—" Merlin started and drew Arthur's attention to him. The prince looked into the warlock's eyes and heard, "—you really are a stupid git." Merlin grinned at him.

Arthur was too surprised to do anything but stare.

Merlin felt the affection wash over him again—that affection he had tried so hard to deny but always knew was there. "Arthur—" Merlin said again, but his voice came out low, husky and strained. It got Arthur's attention though. The prince looked at him and Merlin patted the bed besides his hip. Arthur got up from the end of the bed and sat down where Merlin gestured him to, but kept wringing his hands nervously together. Merlin furled his own hand over the top of them. "So…you didn't regret it?" Merlin asked him, feeling the warmth of Arthur's hands beneath his own.

"What?" Arthur looked at Merlin. "Of course not. I was just…I was afraid…" he trailed off but Merlin didn't make him finish. Even knowing his feelings, Arthur was still too proud to voice them aloud and Merlin wouldn't have him any other way. This was _Arthur_, after all.

"Arthur?" Merlin spoke quietly, "will you just kiss me, please?" It was hard to ask it aloud, but Arthur did not seem that strained when he heard the request. In fact, as Arthur leaned toward Merlin, he seemed rather pleased with himself.

Merlin kissed him slow and gently, muttering, "you prat," against Arthur's lips, eliciting a small smile from the prince.

\-------

It took Merlin's leg almost two months to heal, but eventually the man was back to his regular self. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. The pair fell into a comfortable, unspoken agreement that they were _together_ in whatever sense it was possible and they did not try to over think or rationalise it—they just allowed it to occur and this seemed to keep the both of them content.

Merlin would sometimes sleep in Arthur's bed, but it was too risky to do so too often without others finding out. So tonight Arthur slept alone, and he found that it was not as easy to do so without Merlin there next to him. He drifted in and out of a fitful sleep until he woke suddenly to a noise in his chambers.

He blinked furiously, hand moving toward his sword automatically, until the shadow materialised into the outline of a familiar body and Arthur was struck dumb. At the foot of his bed stood the lady Morgana, Uther's missing ward.


	5. Intricately Unsuitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret's out, but Arthur and Merlin will feel no alleviation as they are caught up in a magical illusion of a sorceress's making. In a true test of character, the men will have to fight for each other or fight against one another.

Arthur's brain was slow to register what he was seeing in his rooms and even after telling himself repeatedly that he was probably still asleep, there was no denying that Morgana was _there_ standing in front of him, alive and—from what he could tell—well. He did not realise just how much he had missed her presence until she was there again. It was as if something illuminated in his mind and he realised that yes, he really did come to think of Morgana as a sister and now that she was here again, the anguish of her absence washed over him in a single moment.

"Morgana?" he still questioned, because he thought that his mind had the grand ability to lie to him but his ears could give him the confirmation he really needed.

"Hello Arthur," she said in return and Arthur felt the cool feeling of gladness envelop him. He began to rise to go meet her, to greet her and say that he was not entirely happy with her for not letting him and Uther know that she was safe but he was still glad that she was, in fact, alright.

Morgana raised a hand to Arthur and for a moment he thought, _She really missed me this much?_ but he realised quickly that her hand was not reaching toward him in a welcoming gesture, but was giving him the signal to stop and not to move. Arthur's mind began to work at the implications this gesture gave, that something was amiss and possibly right here in his chambers, but then everything began to feel entirely _wrong_.

Morgana's hand was not a warning, but an action, and the action had caused Arthur to still and instead of going forward, he was flying backward until he collided bodily with the headboard of his bed and he was no longer able to _move_ anything, save his mouth which frowned in confusion and uncertainty. This was not Morgana, he now realised, it could not be because Morgana did not and could not do this to him. His mind raced through the sorcerers he had encountered and landed on _Morgause_. His frown turned into a tight sneer. He said nothing, but his face gave the impression that he was not going to allow her the satisfaction of getting the best of him.

Morgana's mouth twitched, but she gave no hint that she knew what Arthur was thinking, until, "No, Arthur, I am not Morgause. Though I understand why you would think that. My sister—"

Arthur could not hold his tongue now. "_Sister_?"

"Well yes, Arthur, did your father not tell you?" she paused, but then added, "No, he does not share anything with you that would shed light on his previous entanglement with the magic arts. Uther is very careful to lie to you about anything regarding magic, isn't he?"

"He doesn't—" but Arthur knew that what Morgana said was true. His father _had_ lied to him about magic and he never had allowed Arthur to form his own opinions on the matter, because according to Uther, there _were_ no other opinions than his own. Arthur changed tactics. "If it really is you, Morgana, then why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not going to do anything to you, Arthur, don't worry. I'm here to help convey a message, nothing else." Morgana looked as calm and collected as ever and Arthur wondered what the hell was going on.

"A message from whom?"

"You will know in time, Arthur. Just listen, will you? I haven't got all night." She gave no pause, continuing, "Uther Pendragon is going to regret the day that he raised his sword against sorcery. He (and you) will watch as we destroy his beloved Camelot and he will know the wrath of the magicians he has persecuted so readily in the past. Then he shall die by our hands."

Strangely, Arthur knew she was going to say something like this, despite the fact that he had no idea Morgana had anything to do with magic, much less that she could perform it—which couldn't be denied considering his current immobility.

"But you will have your chance, Arthur, to ally yourself with the ones who will shape the future of this kingdom and all the lands. I do hope when you face it, you will be ready to make the _right_ choice, where your father was not able to."

Arthur was about to retort—what exactly he would say, he didn't know, but he couldn't sit there and say _nothing_—but something occurred that stopped him. Arthur heard an odd sound that seemed to resonate itself behind where Morgana stood. It was a low, strange hissing noise and Arthur would not have been altogether worried if Morgana's face had not twisted into something akin to fear as she recognised it; her reaction made him worried that something much more evil than anything he had come to know in the past few years was about to show itself and he was not at all prepared for it.

"You forget yourself, Lady Morgana," Arthur heard, a voice from absolutely nowhere but at the same time, sounding as if it was whispering quietly into his ear. He stared at Morgana's face, pleading silently that she take away everything that was happening but he could only see a similar fear reflecting back from her eyes. This was hopeless.

Arthur caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, a strange flickering movement that he would have passed off as nothing if it were not for the fact that he could now see a shimmer in the air, as though the empty space on the floor where the moonlight bathed into Arthur's chambers was trying to reveal something that wasn't actually there.

But something _was_ there, because slowly, a form was appearing, twitching and shaking into existence until it was as solid as he himself was. It was a person, he suspected, hooded in an overly large cloak so that Arthur could not make out a face inside the black hole of a hood.

Morgana jumped immediately at the appearance. "My Lord!" she practically screeched, "Yes I got…carried away catching up with—with Arthur." She then proceeded to _bow_ to this hooded figure and Arthur wondered who would be important enough for Morgana to be bowing to like that? Arthur knew of no king who sounded like this man—if he was, in fact, a man. Something about the air that filled the space around him seemed to make Arthur think twice about it.

"Go and find your sister, Morgana," the low, cruel voice continued. Arthur thought the man sounded like every awful noise he ever heard rolled into an absurdly vicious existence. "We have matters to attend to in Camelot tonight."

Arthur had no time to think, no time to consider what this could mean. The magic that was holding him suddenly vanished and Morgana was scurrying out of the room, leaving Arthur here with whatever this _thing_ was. He reacted in the only way he knew how—he jumped from his bed, unsheathed his sword and descended on the man. Before he could get to him, the man rolled back his sleeves, lifted his pale hands to the hood of his robe and pulled it back to reveal his face. If Arthur hadn't already been stunned by this entire exchange, from the moment Morgana had showed up to the moment he'd brandished his sword, he was astonished beyond belief now.

The man stared back at him with such a familiar knowing gaze that Arthur could not stop his eyes from leaking tears—from fright or from sadness, he really did not know—as his sword fell from his lax grip and clanged loudly against the stone floor.

The man that stared back at Arthur, with brilliant blue eyes not unlike his own, was _Merlin_.

Arthur woke up so violently that he pitched off the side of his bed and his head collided painfully with his side table. He could feel wet streaks running down his cheeks and for a moment he just lay motionless on the floor, unable to move or comprehend anything at all. He thought that the man—that _Merlin_—had knocked him to the ground with some sort of spell, but he was slowly coming to realise that he had been asleep the entire time and that this whole scenario was something he'd dreamed up from nothing.

He finally got enough sense to right himself on the floor, staring at the empty part of the room that Merlin had just occupied in his subconscious. Had it really been Merlin? Yes, of course it was Merlin, he knew is own manservant when he saw him.

But it couldn't possibly be. He had to be confusing the dream, mixing up the things he had seen in his mind. Merlin would _never_—Merlin was no—_No_, he told himself, Merlin _was_ a sorcerer and Merlin _could_ do magic and Merlin was just as capable as every other magical being Arthur had come in contact with to be just as cruel, just as _evil_.

Arthur started, realising something that he hadn't ever thought of before, in all his musing about Merlin's abilities. Things had been relatively quiet around Camelot before Merlin showed up. In fact, it seemed as if with the appearance of the dark haired man, everything evil and magical suddenly decided to come out of the woods to take a swing at Arthur and his father. Certainly people had tried to kill the king and his son before, but these attacks never seemed so focused and so driven until Merlin had taken up residence in Camelot.

What did that _mean_, really? Just because odd things started happening didn't mean that it had anything to do with Merlin's arrival. But the coincidence was pretty fantastical and he could not deny that, at least. Could it truly be? Could Merlin be the front of the magical attack on Camelot? Could all of Arthur's feelings, all of the things he thought he knew about Merlin be a _lie_? Was Merlin just using him?

He didn't know. He didn't know what to think, he didn't know what to feel. For the first time in the years since Merlin had arrived, Arthur felt completely lost. Merlin had always been a compass, pointing Arthur down the path of righteousness. Arthur couldn't have asked for a better friend, for a better lover, or for a better _man_ than Merlin, but was that just the crux of the situation? Was it reality that Merlin had played Arthur like the most vulgarly gullible instrument in the whole of the world?

_No_, Arthur steeled himself. "No," he said aloud, preparing his heart for the battle yet to be fought. He would _not_ go down like his father. He would _not_ be tricked into a means to an end that could only result in death. He would _not_ be a laughing stock, a fool, a village idiot that would forever be remembered for his idiocy to not see the truth that was bared before him so cleanly, so perfectly obvious. He _refused_ to be twisted and used. He would take care of this before it became a problem. He would save Merlin the trouble.

Merlin blinked awake, only vaguely aware that he was not alone. Merlin's brain processed this information too slowly and when he realised that his life was in danger, it was too late for him to do anything about it. A sword point was in the hollow of his throat and Merlin was just about to shout before a hand fell warmly over his mouth.

"Say a word, Merlin, and I will sever your head from your neck."

When he heard the voice it was as if the stark image of the man followed suit and he was there, lying under Arthur's sword, completely at his mercy and unaware as to _why_. He said 'Arthur' into the prince's hand, but it only came out as a muffled mumble. What on earth was happening? Was he dreaming?

Arthur went silent. He just stood there, staring down at Merlin. When he'd gone over this in his head, how he would just _do_ it and be done, it had gone much smoother. Now he was faced with Merlin's astonished reaction, his eyes wide and pleading and Arthur couldn't really remember why he was here in the first place. This was _Merlin_ for bloody sake! There had to be some explanation! But it was true that Merlin was keeping a secret from him and refused to indulge it no matter how many times Arthur had probed him. Why did he want it to stay a secret when Arthur was so obviously aware? He had to be hiding something.

"What is your plan?" Arthur asked finally.

Merlin kept staring up at him and tried to say something, but it was muffled beneath Arthur's hand. Arthur thought for a moment. "If you yell, I'll kill you," though neither of them would really know if he could make good on that threat or not. Arthur slowly removed his hand and Merlin didn't yell, which was good because Arthur didn't want to be tested.

"What plan? Arthur what are you _doing_?"

"I'm keeping myself alive, before you have the chance to kill me." It was the truth, though Arthur felt it leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Merlin's look of exasperation did not help his situation much either. Whatever he felt in his heart, however, he could not bring himself to remove the sword from Merlin's neck. It was his failsafe. His free hand should have been threateningly tugging at Merlin's tunic, but it really just lay pressed against Merlin's chest flatly. Arthur's hand rose and fell with Merlin's deep breathing.

"Kill you?" Merlin looked more confused than he had in ages, which was saying something, because Merlin looked confused a lot around Arthur. "Why would you say something like that?"

Arthur had no reply for some time. They just kept staring at each other with intense gazes that made Arthur uncomfortable. He really just wanted to sit down because his arm was cramping but he couldn't move. "I know your secret," Arthur settled on finally.

"_What_ secret?" Merlin asked, but Arthur could hear the change in his tone—he knew exactly what Arthur was talking about but was playing coy again.

"Don't treat me like a blind fool, Merlin. I think you know what I'm referring to and it's about time you quit trying to lie about it. Your lies lost their merit months ago. No one with two wits to rub together would believe what you spout." Arthur was probably the only one who got the brunt of all the lies, since he was usually the one who was around when Merlin got up to his magic.

Merlin's mouth opened automatically, to leak another half-hearted lie. It was something that had practically grown into a habit, so not doing it was unorthodox for him. But at the same time, Arthur could be referring to something else entirely and Merlin was misjudging his reactions. It was possible, though unlikely. Merlin still could not say it aloud though. This was Arthur. Arthur Pendragon, Uther's son! He wouldn't side with Gaius on this issue; he'd kill Merlin himself! He was proving such right now! What could he possibly say?

"What do you think you know, Arthur?" He would be safer by getting Arthur to speak instead of giving up the game himself.

Arthur started to shake his head. First it was a small jerk, almost a twitch, but then he was wagging back and forth, his blond hair moving about his scalp as he shook firmly at Merlin. "No, Merlin. You will tell me yourself. I'm not going to oblige you this." He would have stopped talking then, but he had to add, "Tell me the truth, for _once_, Merlin. I think you owe me that much." He was pleading and he hadn't wanted to do that, but it had hurt Arthur before that Merlin wouldn't be honest with him and now—well now it was like Merlin had the sword pointed at _him_ and not the other way around.

"Arthur, I can't..." Merlin trailed off and Arthur knew he was closer, but he still didn't have the answer he wanted.

"What are you so afraid of?" Arthur screamed at him, all tact lost. He wanted to shake Merlin senseless because why was he being so stubborn about something they both knew already?

Merlin's gaze hardened, his mouth became a straight, taunt line that revealed no emotion. It was not a look Arthur recognised and it scared him.

"What am I afraid of, Arthur? What am I afraid of?" he was repeating the question louder and louder until he was screaming at Arthur too, his voice dripping malice the likes of which Arthur had never heard from him before.

"This! I'm afraid of _this_ Arthur!" To emphasise the point, Merlin's hand wrapped around the sword at his throat tightly—too tightly—and he shook it. He could feel the blade cutting into his hand, but he ignored it and kept shaking the sword, watching the vibrations run up the metal and wiggle inside of Arthur's grasp. Blood began to pool from beneath his fingers, oozing and dripping down the sword and onto his throat.

"Merlin! What are you doing?" All rational thought left Arthur and he was prying the pale fingers from around the sword and lifting it away from Merlin's throat without much thought or concern for his own safety. He was bare now, open for Merlin to do what he would have done in Arthur's dream, but Arthur couldn't spare it a single thought. His sword dropped to the floor, forgotten and he was tearing a strip of cloth from his own tunic and wrapping it around Merlin's hand. "Why are you so _foolish_?" Arthur was mumbling, mostly to himself, as he held Merlin's hand firmly between his own, pressuring the wound to stop bleeding.

"How? How did you think that I could tell you, Arthur? _You_ of all people? You're the king's son! Uther Pendragon, the man who punishes magic above all else and you expected me to _tell_ you? Look at you! Look how you reacted! You accused me of wanting to _kill_ you, Arthur, yet you wonder why I wouldn't tell you that I have magic? If you can't figure that out, Arthur, then you _are_ a fool." Merlin let him hold his wound, but he looked to be getting more furious every moment and Arthur was losing the battle he thought he'd had the upper hand in.

"_Merlin_," Arthur drawled in his usual manner, but he knew it was pointless. He was long past being able to pin this on Merlin. "I wouldn't have—"

"Wouldn't have _what_, Arthur? Threatened my life? Thought the worst of me? Looked behind you at every turn, expecting that I might decide now was the time to take you down, finally, after _all_ this time?" Every word washed over Arthur like a slap in the face and he knew he deserved it, but that didn't quell the sting each word left him with. Merlin was right. He'd acted rashly, threatened Merlin's life and for what—a stupid dream? It was a very frightening and realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless.

"I—Merlin, I'm—"

"If you have decided you aren't going to kill me, can you just leave me alone now?" Arthur hadn't thought that this could hurt anymore than it already did, but he was wrong. That last question—such a simple statement—imbedded in Arthur the true stupidity of his actions that possibly cost him his only, true friend and also a man that he was fairly certain he loved in some inexplicably intimate way. Now he had finally gotten Merlin to admit what he'd been trying to squeeze out of him for months and it couldn't have made him feel any more isolated.

\-------

Arthur could not have predicted the difficulty with which the next few days would present themselves. It wasn't as if he thought Merlin was just going to forgive his lunacy, but he had expected that he would at least get another chance to apologise or plead or _something_. But Merlin was back to his old guarded self, holding his secrets (even if they weren't secrets anymore) close to his heart and not letting loose. Arthur was not sure what he could do that would get Merlin to actually _listen_ to his pathetic attempt at an explanation. Short of holding him at sword point again—something that would probably have an adverse effect—he was at a loss as to how he could get the warlock to talk to him.

The fourth day after Arthur's encounter with Merlin, an occupant from an outlying village had come to gain audience with the king. She introduced herself as Ellyn, a milkmaid from the village of Cranwell, one of Camelot's favoured livestock towns. When the court had assembled to listen to the maiden's petition, Uther gave her a terse nod. "You may speak now." The woman bowed to the king and the prince.

"Sire, thank you for allowing me to speak with you. We have discord in Cranwell, my Lord. A beast has been attacking our village, killing our livestock and destroying our crop."

"A beast? Of what nature?" Arthur asked.

"We are not entirely certain. Those who have grappled with it have not lived long to tell tale. From what we could gather from Clarke, before he died, it was a sort of scorpid. Clarke had a single puncture wound to the neck which could account for what he described."

"A scorpion?" Arthur repeated skeptically.

"Not a normal scorpion, sire. Clarke described it as at least six metres high and longer still in length." Though the idea was absurd, she said it with an utter honesty that was undeniable.

Arthur could hear coughing in the hall—men making shrewd attempts to cover their mirth at the woman's claim. Arthur gave them a glowering look. He glanced to his father, who in turn looked to Gaius. "What say you, Gaius?" the king asked.

Gaius looked thoughtful. "Well, there are accounts of those who had the ability to cure stings from a scorpion or snake—Serket was one such being. But there is no real proof that such a beast exists, least it be wrought by—"

"—sorcery," Uther completed Gaius's sentence with obvious disdain.

"Yes, sire," Gaius replied, giving Ellyn a sympathetic look. "You say livestock was attacked."

"That's right," she replied.

"How are they being killed? A sting like the man Clarke?" Gaius probed.

"No, not that we could find. Most of them were mutilated beyond recognising. Many villagers figure that the beast is feeding from them."

Gaius nodded grimly. "That was what I was afraid of. Your village serves as an ample supply of fresh food for any such beast to quell his appetite and I'm sorry to say I don't think it will leave until that food source runs dry."

Arthur interjected, "You mean once it's killed everyone and everything in the village?"

"Yes, sire, I think that might just be the case."

Arthur turned to Uther. "We must go and slay this beast or risk losing our own supply of food. Cranwell has been one of our major livestock resources for years."

Uther nodded in agreement. "Yes, I believe it will be our only option if we hope to prevent a shortage."

"The knights and I will leave at first light, father." Arthur said. He turned to a nearby servant, "See that Ellyn is given food and lodging for the night. She will ride out with us in the morning."

Ellyn bowed low to the prince and to the king. "Thank you, your highness."

Cranwell was only a half day's ride from Camelot and the traveling group made good time and arrived just after noon. Ellyn set about finding food for the knights and prince. "All of the attacks have occurred after nightfall," she had told them, so Arthur and the men needed to search as much land as possible before they were robbed of daylight.

Arthur asked a village passerby, "Does anyone here know the land well around the village? We need to search for any alcoves, caves, or outcroppings where a beast could find shelter." The man nodded and left the knights to fetch a man who could be of help. He brought back a dark haired man with a scruffy beard and thinning hair named Leofrick. Arthur inclined his head toward the man. "You know the land well, sir?"

"Yes, sire, I can lead your men around the village. There are not many places of hiding around here, but there is one area that could be of interest to you." They spent the rest of the afternoon scrambling through the woods all around the village looking for any signs of life. They found none, of course, but Arthur at least felt content with knowing the lay of the land, if not the whereabouts of the beast.

At nightfall, Arthur had knights posted around every edge of the village and gave them the command to call if they were to see any movement at all. All the villagers were to remain inside their houses and Merlin was posted with Arthur at the south end of the village.

"Don't try anything foolish, Merlin," Arthur spoke quietly to his manservant. He should have known that it was useless to say so, but Arthur had to show some semblance of authority over this man, even though he knew Merlin wouldn't listen to him.

"Yes, _sire_," Merlin replied blandly.

The first hour passed without incident and Arthur began nodding off a quarter into the second hour. Merlin, who pointed toward the forest in front of them, waked him from sleep at half past the third hour. Arthur mouthed '_what is it?_' to the warlock, but he couldn't seem to comprehend the wordless act, so Arthur leaned over and placed his lips flush against Merlin's ear and whispered, "What did you see?"

Arthur pulled back and watched Merlin repeat his act, the lips and breath in Arthur's ear sending a chill up the length of his spine. "Didn't see. Heard a noise like shuffling. Something's coming toward us." When Merlin retreated from Arthur's personal space, Arthur motioned for him to stand up. The prince gave a swift, shrill whistle and waited for the knights nearest him—Gawain, Gareth, Tor, Caradoc and Bors—to congregate where he and Merlin waited. He held up a series of hand motions to explain their plan of advancement and then they all began walking forward in mass.

It did not take them long to come upon the rustling noise and Arthur crept the group forward slowly, making the least amount of noise possible. Arthur could not make much out, but he saw through the moonlight a figure coming upon them and readied the group to take arms. Just as they got into range, the figure turned to face them and Arthur's heart leaped into his throat.

Regaining composure quickly, he held up a hand and called for the group to cease movement. He walked steadily toward the waiting Morgause, her eyes locked on his own. "Morgause," Arthur spat. "Are you unleashing the beast on this village?" He was only partially aware that Merlin was standing directly behind him to the right, while the knights held back behind them both.

"Well of course, Arthur. How else was I to get your attention?" She smiled at him, almost _warmly_, and Arthur felt his blood run cold.

"What is it you want, witch?"

"Arthur. I gave you the chance to see your mother and _this_ is how you speak to me?" She looked hurt, but Arthur knew it was an act.

"That was sorcery. Stop the attack on this village immediately. You are killing innocent people." Arthur felt his sword hand twitch involuntarily.

Morgause's face hardened. "They are Uther Pendragon's people and therefore hardly innocent."

Arthur scoffed, "You would punish a kingdom's people for a personal vendetta against their king?"

"I would punish those who sit idly by while Uther murders my people in cold blood." Morgause spit on the ground.

"Your answer for the injustice of murder is to murder yourself, Morgause?"

She gave no emotion away as she said, "It gets the point across."

Arthur took his turn to spit at _her_ feet. "You're a disgrace."

"No, Arthur Pendragon, it is _you_ who is the disgrace for failing to kill your father when I offered you the truth of his transgressions."

"You spun lies to get others to do your dirty work for you, spell weaver. You are nothing more than a coward!" Arthur's face was flushed with anger and he was close to lunging at her, but Merlin's hand closed around his wrist.

"Arthur don't—" he heard Merlin begin, but suddenly Morgause's attention flickered from his face to Merlin's and her eyes narrowed murderously.

Pointing at the warlock, she roared, "_You!_ You dare show your face to me, assassin?"

Arthur was flummoxed. He followed Morgause's gaze to Merlin's face, expecting to see someone else at the end of her verbal attack. But it was only Merlin, staring fixedly back at Morgause and Arthur only faced her again in time to see her advancing on them.

Chaos ensued the moment after. The knights mistook the sorceress's decent as an onslaught against the prince and were careening toward the woman before she could reach Arthur and Merlin. She lifted a hand and knocked Gawain back into Gareth and Tor into a nearby tree. Bors was able to reach her and he lashed his sword toward her chest but his blow never landed. She was chanting something that shifted the air around her, forming some sort of shield that blew back Bors and Caradoc at least ten metres from where she stood.

Arthur and Merlin alone were left standing and they marched toward Morgause in stride, both muttering warnings to each other that fell upon deaf ears.

"Arthur, leave it! I will handle this—"

"Merlin, don't be ridiculous! You cannot fight—"

Arthur drew his sword and attempted fruitlessly to attack the witch while Merlin chanted something under his breath, arm outstretched. The enchantress was mimicking Merlin's actions inside her protective sphere, and she finished her incantation at the same moment that Merlin finished his. There was a loud crashing sound like thunder and a flash of indigo light erupted between the two magic wielders knocking all three of them back as if slammed against by an invisible force. Arthur heard an awkward _squelching_ sound before the world around him went black and he lie still.

Arthur was woken again by Merlin, who was shaking his shoulder furiously until Arthur's eyes opened in answer. "Are you alright?" Merlin was asking him and Arthur blinked a few times before sitting up. He felt a sharp pain go up the length of his back to his neck, but otherwise he felt no injury.

"_What_ did I tell you? I said, quite specifically, 'do not do anything stupid, Merlin' and what do you do?" Arthur was so focused on chastising Merlin that he didn't bother looking about them after the safety of their other companions.

"Erm, Arthur—" Merlin began.

"_What?_" Arthur replied hotly.

"I don't know where we are," came Merlin's simple but perplexed answer.

"What are you prattling about, Merlin? We're outside—" but Arthur was stunned into silence. He finally cast a look around them and could _see_ everything because the sun was out in full and probably midday from what he could gather. Eyebrows arched high on his forehead, Arthur scrambled to his feet and began pacing around, looking to no avail for any other life force in the vicinity. Not only did he find no one, he also noticed that the woods they were currently in were nothing like the area they had patrolled hours before.

"Merlin, what…" Arthur began to ask, but trailed off uselessly. He threw his hands in the air and said, "Where _is_ everyone? Morgause…"

"I don't know Arthur. I woke up on the ground just as you did. No one else is here. Not the knights, not Morgause—no one."

"How is this _possible_?" Arthur asked, though not really to Merlin. That is until he wheeled around to stare at the warlock. "What spell did you cast?" his tone was accusing, though he hadn't really spoken such knowingly. It was practically a reflex and one he was going to regret.

Merlin's face darkened instantly. "_I_ didn't do this, Arthur, thanks for asking." Merlin stood then and started walking away from the prince.

The blond felt so frustrated he squeezed his hands into fists and only just contained a roar of anger. "Merlin, I didn't mean it like _that!_" Arthur started after Merlin, catching up quickly enough and placing himself in front of his manservant to halt his retreat. "I only meant what were you trying to do? Do you know what Morgause was saying—doing—whatever?"

Merlin eyed Arthur wearily, wanting to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. He couldn't deny that they were stranded in unfamiliar territory, though, and fighting wasn't going to get them any closer to Camelot, so he obliged Arthur. For now at least.

"I was trying to destroy that protective shield she had created. I don't know what she was saying, I was concentrating on my own spell." Talking aloud to Arthur about spell casting felt wrong somehow, because he'd never discussed it with anyone but Gaius—even his mother did not know anything about Merlin's advancements with spells.

"Shite," Arthur huffed out, looking around them and then back at Merlin. "Do you have any idea what might have happened?"

Merlin considered this. On one hand, he was completely at a loss as to what could project the two of them into another space entirely and on the other hand, he felt like this was something Gaius had mentioned before. "Let me think a moment," Merlin said so that Arthur would not think he was ignoring him. Merlin started to pace back and forth, and eventually he fell into tracing a figure eight with his feet, chin tucked firmly between his thumb and index fingers.

There _were_ incantations that could move people from one place to another. He'd seen as such when Morgause had taken Morgana from the king's hall. Merlin had never tried it himself, but was that what Morgause had been trying to accomplish? Was she hoping to transport Arthur and Merlin to another location and maybe even herself and had failed to do so because of Merlin's spell? Or had Merlin's spell and Morgause's clashed or combined and given an ill result on both sides? He really didn't have the answers and without a book to refer to, he only had his own intuition to rely on.

He stopped pacing and turned to Arthur, who was looking a little lost. "I'm not really sure, but I have theories. First, we should start moving, though. Maybe we are not far from where we were and have moved through time rather than space." Merlin didn't really think that was the case, but he had no choice but to consider all options.

Arthur nodded. "Let's head north and see where that gets us," the prince replied and began looking at nearby rocks and trees for moss while Merlin scrounged up the tallest stick he could find and placed it in the ground, marking the end of its shadow. After a quarter hour they had a good direction of north and began walking. Arthur asked, "What are your theories then?"

Merlin could not decipher Arthur's mood. He sounded genuinely interested, but so did Uther whenever Gaius was explaining the magical inclinations of the recent plague on Camelot. And while Merlin did not think that Arthur truly was afraid of him because he had magic, there was no denying that he had reacted in the same manner as his father would have. For the sake of their sanity in this situation, Merlin would set aside the hurt that Arthur had caused him that night and stick to finding their way home.

"It is possible that Morgause was trying to transport us somewhere," Merlin began. "If that were the case I would assume she would only do so to get us away from the knights and make it easier to kill either or both of us."

Arthur's face took a strange form at that comment. "Why did she call you 'assassin,' Merlin?"

Merlin considered lying because that was his usual defense, but Arthur already knew about him so revealing the other truths was not going to change Arthur's mind one way or another. "Because I poisoned Morgana."

"_What?_" Arthur stopped cold and was staring at the back of Merlin's head until the warlock quit walking and faced him. "When? Why?"

"The Knights of Medhir. Morgause was the one who was controlling them. When we got back to Camelot…" Merlin's voice trailed off. Explaining this meant explaining almost everything that had haunted Merlin's mind in these last months. Was Arthur really ready to hear everything Merlin had been involved in? More yet, was Merlin comfortable with telling it? Not even Gaius knew that Merlin had talked with the dragon. He shook his head of his thoughts. He would not indulge more than was needed. "When we got back to Camelot, Morgana was the only one awake. She was the one that was fueling the spell that left the rest asleep."

Arthur's brow came together in confusion. "How do you know that?"

Merlin was going to say Gaius, but of course, Gaius had been asleep like the others. Instead he said, "I figured it out. Even you did, you just didn't want to believe it."

He knew it wasn't really a stab in the dark because Arthur's face was relaxing and he nodded reluctantly. "So I went back to Gaius's and looked through the books he had. Eventually I found one that said that the power to maintain such a spell required a living vessel and the vessel had to be eradicated to break it. Morgana was the source and she had to be…" No matter how academically he looked back on it, he still could not bring himself to say the words.

"You think that Morgause used Morgana to put everyone asleep so that the Knights attack on Camelot would not be hindered." It wasn't an inquiry, but Merlin nodded in agreement. Then he saw something strange flash across Arthur's face then, something akin to realisation. He looked at Merlin expectantly but Merlin did not understand.

"Morgause is Morgana's sister," Arthur said and Merlin gave Arthur a 'you have gone mental, my friend' look.

"What are you talking about?" Merlin asked because his look was not stirring any answers from Arthur.

"In my dream, the one I had before I…" his voice wavered, faltered, and Merlin realised he was referring to the night he'd threatened Merlin's life. So he had had a dream that had spurred his crazed act? "I dreamed of Morgana. She was…she was a sorceress and she told me that Morgause was her sister."

"Is that possible?" Merlin asked, because he knew nothing of Morgana's lineage.

"Yes. Her father's name was Gorlois, the Duke of Cornwall. Its entirely possible that Morgana and Morgause shared a mother or a father, or even both."

Merlin was thoughtful for a moment. "That _would_ explain why the Knights wouldn't kill her. And why Morgause was so distressed when she found I had poisoned Morgana."

"When did that happen?" Arthur asked, eyes still glazed over by thought.

"When you left the hall to get the cart. I knew she was the source. I had no other choice."

Arthur said nothing for a while and they walked alongside each other in silence. Eventually he asked, "So Morgana _is_ dead?"

Merlin shook his head. "I don't think so. Morgause bargained with me. She stopped the Knights' attack and I gave her the poison I'd used. She was certain she could save her and knowing the strength of her magic, I doubt she failed." Merlin was not at all sure of that, but he couldn't bring himself to admit to Arthur that he was a murderer.

"Merlin," Arthur turned to him. "Does Morgana have magic?"

"Yes," Merlin replied immediately.

"Like you?" Arthur asked, but his voice was not as strong as before.

"No. Her dreams. She dreams the truth about what is to come. All those times she warned you that she 'had a bad feeling,' it was because she'd dreamt it already."

Arthur grew silent again and Merlin knew he was trying to fit all the new pieces in with the ones he already knew from that day. Finally, he spoke, but it was only a whisper and Merlin had to strain to hear him. "Morgana was helping Morgause to try to kill my father." It was not a question, but Merlin answered anyway.

"We don't know that, Arthur. I did not have a chance to ask her. Morgause might be her sister, but that does not mean that Morgana condoned her behaviour. Morgana may have been used unwillingly or unknowingly."

Arthur shot him a disapproving look, asking, "Do you _truly_ believe that?"

Merlin considered the times that Uther had done things that made him hate the king. Merlin would never wish death on anyone, but Gaius had asked him once if he considered letting Uther die and Merlin could not deny that he had given it thought more than once. He knew the ramifications that this would have for Arthur, however, and would never wish upon Arthur such anguish. Morgana had not thought twice about Arthur's feelings. Finally, Merlin shook his head.

"No, I don't." Silence followed Merlin's whispered reply.

They walked together in silence for almost two hours before Arthur's stride slowed. He glanced over at Merlin and said, "I don't think we're getting anywhere."

Merlin knew that he was right. All the trees they passed look like the others before them and Merlin was beginning to believe that this was not a real place, but an illusion wrought by Morgause's magic. "I don't think we are anywhere near Camelot," Merlin admitted.

"Neither do I. The question is how do we get back?" Arthur did not show worry upon his face, but Merlin could hear an edge in his voice.

"I have no idea," Merlin said slowly.

"We might as well prepare for nightfall; make camp and try to find something to eat. Maybe we will fall upon some new ideas by morning."

Days past. Night came and went and still they walked, aimlessly in every direction, never gaining ground, never reaching the edge of the forest. Most of the time they were quiet, the air around them laden with unspoken questions and apologies.

There were so many things clouding Arthur's mind that he couldn't grasp on a single thought and keep hold of it. He was trying to run through everything that had ever happened since Merlin had arrived. Any time when magic was involved that Merlin might not have been truthful with him. Arthur was annoyed with Merlin in many ways because he had always known more than Arthur and had never been forthcoming with him about it. But then he remembered the night that he stuck his sword into Merlin's neck while he slept and knew that _he_ was in the wrong too.

They both were at fault but neither could come up with the words to express the confusion and anguish that settled inside their heads.

Merlin could not stop thinking of the moment that he woke up to find Arthur's sword at his throat; the threatening gaze with which Arthur bore down at him and the words that dripped malice whenever he spoke. Arthur was not only scared of Merlin's abilities, he hated Merlin in the same way he had hated Uther when he found out about his mother's death. No matter how much he denied it, Merlin had _seen_ that hatred in Arthur's blue eyes when they looked down at him that night.

After all they had been through, after _finally_ settling into one another, they were once again wrenched apart. Two sides of the same coin? A destiny that was intertwined between the two of them? How could it be when no matter how hard they tried, they were always pushing against each other, always moving away? They clashed more now than ever before even _with_ the secrets between them diminishing.

The atmosphere they were moving through was stifling them and added to that the reality that they were lost in a world they didn't even know, alone and isolated, they were forgetting what had ever made them compatible to begin with. They lashed out at each other for no reason other than to _feel_ the emotion. That kick-start of testosterone and adrenaline let them know that they were still there, that they could still feel sorrow and pain and unhappiness at a normal level of cognition. Without the confusion and the anger to sustain them, they would not know if they were even still _alive_.

The days stretched into a week and still they were lost. Nothing ever seemed to change. The sun rose and fell at distinct intervals, never too hot, never too cold. Water was there when they needed it, food presented itself when they were hungry, but the thing that they were so desperately searching for remained ever out of reach.

But on the ninth day, there was vicissitude.

Merlin felt a fat raindrop splash on his nose and he looked up at the sky where a disturbance was visible. Before he really had time to process it, the storm was upon them. The rain pelted down heavily on their clothes and skin and thunder shook the ground around them. Lightning raced across the sky, each bolt crashing against another.

And then Merlin snapped.

He ran toward Arthur at full speed, shoulder angled toward the impact. He careened into the prince with a crack of thunder that drowned out his disturbing scream. The crash overbalanced Arthur and they both careened to the ground in a painful heap. Arthur took no time in answering Merlin's assault. He freed his right hand from the tangle of Merlin's arms and thrust his balled fist into the side Merlin's face. Merlin groaned in pain and was dazed enough that Arthur was able to wrestle from beneath him and punch him again, this time in the stomach. Merlin curled into himself and Arthur stood, but did nothing more than look down at Merlin.

The warlock's hand extended out and an invisible blow to the chest threw Arthur back to the ground. While the blond tried to regain his footing, Merlin was up again, sliding dangerously in the mud but holding his ground in the end. Arthur's face twisted in pain but he forced himself to stand and for a long moment they stared into mirrored blue eyes.

Arthur advanced this time and he grappled at Merlin's tunic until he had a good hold, then shook Merlin's lanky frame violently. The manservant grasped at Arthur's shoulders, slapping and digging into skin, trying to free himself from the prince's hold. He centered both palms on either side of Arthur's broad shoulders and pushed with all his might, which caused Arthur to slip in the mud, pulling Merlin along with him. They both went blind as dirt and water splattered into their eyes and caked over their skin. Arthur released Merlin's tunic and wiped furiously at his face and Merlin did the same.

When they could see each other again, neither moved. Merlin straddled Arthur's waist at an uncomfortable angle, one knee digging into the prince's side and the other sliding in the mud, putting a painful strain on his inner thigh. And then he was screaming, nonsensical at first but then accusing, a hand fisting at Arthur's clothing.

"You're just like your father! You don't think for yourself! You let blind hatred propel you! You'll never be any better than he is!"

"And you think you're much different, Merlin?" Arthur's eyes were narrowed into slits and spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled back up at Merlin. "Look at you! A sorcerer using his magic against others! You'll be nothing different than Morgause, killing to gain power!"

"That's not true!" Merlin yelled in reply. He still had a hold of Arthur's tunic and he tugged at it, pulling Arthur's upper body closer and holding a fist threateningly in front of the blond's face. But his anger began to waver, his strength faltered, and he released Arthur's tunic and punched his hand into the mud beside Arthur's head.

Merlin's anger twisted into grief and tears fell freely from his eyes. "It isn't true," he pleaded and crumpled to the ground beside Arthur.

Arthur's eyes darted over Merlin's buckled frame and he felt a sorrowful shame wash through him. He knew he was crying, just like Merlin, and he wiped furiously at his face, only succeeding in spreading mud over his skin. He realised that they had finally said what they couldn't admit to themselves. They had voiced the nightmares that haunted them. It was what neither of them wanted to become, but what they both feared they could not prevent.

Arthur forced himself into a sitting position and nudged his arm under Merlin's, pulling the warlock up. They stared blearily into each other's eyes, and then crashed into one another, arms wrapped tightly around waist and shoulders. They clung to each other in urgent support, both shaking from their own sobs, noses pressed into shoulder and hair. The rain pounded against them from above, the thunder rumbled beneath them and the lightening cracked between their bodies, breaking one and then the other until they were lost, together as one.

The rain slowed around them. When they finally pulled away from one another, there was nothing left of the storm but a darkened sky.

Merlin fingered his sore jaw. "It can never be said that you haven't a good arm," the warlock said mournfully.

A smirk formed on Arthur's face, "I've been trained to kill since birth. I _did_ warn you." Arthur lifted a hand and touched Merlin's cheek tenderly, turning his head at different angles to check for injury. "I don't think I broke you."

Merlin's face darkened at his choice of phrase. He said, "No, not _this_ time."

With a sigh, Arthur removed his hand from Merlin's face. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

"I know," Merlin replied.

Arthur shook his head. "No Merlin. For what I did; coming after you in the middle of the night like that. I was…I was scared."

Merlin nodded but couldn't seem to say anything in return.

Arthur started fingering the mud at the side of his thigh, making a ball of it then crushing it flat with his palm. He didn't apologise often, so it wasn't easy for him. It also wasn't easy for him to get his feelings out into words that would make any sense. "I've grown up all my life with my father telling me that magic can only be used in one way. I've never seen it used for anything besides that, so—"

"It's not your fault, Arthur," Merlin interjected.

"Yes, it is. I know you think I'm just like him, Merlin, but I'm not. He never risks anything, never wants to do something rash even if it would save one person's life. He says that my life is worth more than the people in my kingdom's lives…and I don't believe that. Well I did…before I met you." He gave Merlin a pointed look.

"I don't think you're like your father, Arthur. I've been with you long enough to see that. You use your head and your heart equally and your father…he only uses his head. You have to have the heart, Arthur, to be a great king and you've got it."

Arthur remained silent for a while, still digging in the mud while he sat there. Eventually he said, "Merlin. I know you're not evil."

"Arthur, you don't—"

"_Merlin_. Look at yourself. I _do_ know that. I've seen it in you. There have been dozens of times that you could have let me die and you didn't. If you were hell-bent on killing me, you'd have done it by now."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Merlin's lips. "I have thought about it a few times. You're a right pain in the arse."

Arthur laughed. "I know. I'm serious though. The only reason I came to you that night was to…I don't know. See for myself? I guess I just had to confirm that it wasn't really you. In the dream, I mean."

"What happened in the dream?" Merlin asked, because he was curious as to what would have worried Arthur so much.

Arthur told him. He tried to explain as detailed as he could, how real it all had seemed to him. And even though he knew that the Merlin in the dream was a farce, he still believed that what Morgana had said about Morgause was true. Morgana was angry with Uther and she was going to keep trying to help Morgause kill him. "I wouldn't have really killed you, Merlin. Even if you _had_ screamed."

Merlin nodded. "I know that."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said a second time and placed a hand on Merlin's wrist. He wasn't holding it, just touching the pale skin that connected Merlin's hand to his arm. They both stared down at his hand for a while.

"Do you want to know, Arthur? Do you want to hear everything?" Merlin looked up into Arthur's face as he spoke.

Arthur held his gaze. "How much is there?"

Merlin shrugged a shoulder. "A lot."

"Ok."

And so Merlin told him. He started at the beginning, when he had first come to Camelot and heard the dragon's call. He told Arthur everything the dragon had ever told him.

First he spoke about the two of them and their destiny. Arthur believed it to be true. When he had thought about Merlin's arrival before, he was only considering the downside. The truth was that Merlin had come to Camelot _because_ the forces were beginning to move against him and his father, not to bring it with him. It was such an abstract concept, but it somehow made complete sense. Merlin was destined to be by Arthur's side to ensure the kingdom a prosperous future and Arthur really believed that without Merlin, it never would happen.

Merlin told Arthur about Mordred and Morgana and what the dragon had said was written in their future. He told Arthur that Mordred's destiny was to bring about Arthur's doom just as Merlin's was to protect him from it. He told Arthur that the dragon believed in the both of them even though he held the grudge against Uther for hunting down his kind. Merlin explained the many times he had gone to the dragon to receive wisdom about saving Arthur and the kingdom from one peril or another. He said that he had been afraid to tell Gaius about the dragon because Gaius would have disapproved of Merlin promising to free him when he was given the chance.

Then Merlin told Arthur that it was he who had freed the dragon and unleashed his wrath on Camelot. It was _his_ doing that so many people died and even though he believed Morgana to be alive, it did not erase the blood from his hands that had been wrought by the dragon. He felt his shoulders sag as he spoke of this. His heart still felt heavy with the weight of those lives lost. At his visible anguish, Arthur's touch on his wrist lowered and Merlin watched as Arthur's fingers fell between the spaces of Merlin's own, closing around the back of Merlin's hand. Merlin curled his own fingers to touch the back of Arthur's hand and he squeezed once, a silent thank you.

Finally, Merlin explained that Balinor had been his father, "He saved my life and he'd only known me for half a day." His eyes glistened in memory.

Arthur sighed. "I'm so sorry Merlin. If I'd known that, I wouldn't have pressured you as I did about it."

Merlin shook his head. "No, Arthur. What you told me…it helped. It did." Merlin told the prince that he was now the last dragonlord and it was he who ordered the dragon to leave. He spared his life and now the dragon owed it to him. There would come a day when he would have need of the dragon's help and he would receive it. If nothing else good had come of giving the dragon his freedom, at least he had that.

After talking to so much, Merlin felt like he could tell Arthur anything and so he did. He told Arthur about the druid woman, Freya, for whom he'd felt such affection he had never known before. Unlike with Morgana, Merlin felt a connection with Freya even though her magic was really a curse. He told Arthur what she said before she died, that he had made her feel loved and that one day she would repay his kindness. Arthur squeezed his hand in reply.

And then he said what he had feared most of all, after coming to Camelot and encountering so many sorcerers who had stooped to using their magic for evil. "I'm afraid that I will become like them one day. I'll seek revenge on those who wished to do me harm, wished to do Gaius or Gwen or _you_ harm. I will track down and murder them all and then how will I be any better? How can I say that I use my magic for the good of all when I've already caused so much pain?"

His eyes were cast on the ground as he spoke and he cursed himself for letting his voice quiver. He was about to say that he was being stupid, but Arthur was pulling away from him. Arthur tugged his hand out of Merlin's and the warlock looked up to see why. Then Arthur's hands were on either side of Merlin's face, training his gaze to Arthur's own. Merlin felt warm as Arthur's thumbs rubbed beneath his eyes, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

"_Merlin_," Arthur began. His voice was low, even and caring. Merlin was certain he had never heard Arthur say his name like that before and he would give his life to hear that affection in Arthur's voice again. But he didn't have to. "_Merlin_," Arthur repeated and Merlin waited expectantly for Arthur to finish his sentence.

But the prince said nothing else. Instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin's, soft and gentle and completely unlike anything Merlin knew Arthur to be. Merlin kissed Arthur back and realised that he was wrong. This was exactly the Arthur he knew and had grown to care for. _This_ was the Arthur that Merlin alone knew and the thought of having this Arthur for himself was the greatest joy Merlin had ever felt. He lifted his hands to Arthur's and curled his fingers around the blond's wrists, holding onto them as if he were afraid they would disappear at any moment.

Arthur was still there when he pulled away, though, and Merlin heard himself sigh at the warmth that ran between his forehead and Arthur's that pressed against it. "Merlin," Arthur said a third time, "don't ever for a second think that you will turn out like them. That's not possible. You, Merlin, are the most selfless person I've ever met and there is a reason that so many owe you debts of life. You may have taken lives before and you may do so in the future, but you save just as many—if not more." Merlin watched as Arthur's eyes closed and reopened and then the prince smiled. Merlin could tell because he saw it crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the light that pooled within each brilliant blue iris spoke of Arthur's happiness.

Arthur pulled back from Merlin so he could look into his face fully. "You saved _my_ life, Merlin, and I do not mean the heart that beats within me." The prince took one of Merlin's slender hands into his own and pressed it against his chest. Merlin felt Arthur's heart pumping beneath his fingers, thumping a little faster than was normal. "I mean my very soul, Merlin. When I turned all others away from me with my boorish arrogance, you were there to show me what a man of true character really was. You have taught me more about life in a few years than anyone else has taught me for the whole of my life. When I met you, I _changed_. I became the person that you knew I could be—the person you believed truly lived inside here." He patted his chest with Merlin's hand. "And Merlin, I wouldn't give that up for the whole of the world. The day I met you was the day I finally became the prince I always claimed to be. It was the day I decided to live up to the duties I was born with, the duties to protect and serve the people of my kingdom.

"When I met you Merlin, I finally met myself." Arthur's voice faltered then and he closed his mouth, still clutching Merlin's hand to his chest. After a few moments of silence, in which Merlin tried to wrap his mind around some sort of reply to Arthur's words, the blond spoke once more. "That is why I know Merlin, without any doubt, that you could never be anything like the sorcerers we have faced. You have the purest heart of anyone I have ever known and it will be with your help, I hope, that I ascend the thrown as everything that a king _should_ be. It is with your help that this kingdom will prosper—I don't think that it can be done without you, Merlin."

Merlin spluttered, "Arthur—I—you—you're an _idiot_." He watched as the prince's face blanched and rushed to continue, "Arthur, all those qualities you began to see in yourself, they were already there. I didn't _make_ you into a great person, you already _were_ one, you just didn't believe in yourself. All I did was tell you to."

Arthur's face began to bleed colour back and he smiled a small, private smile Merlin had begun to know intimately as one that was only for him. "Well regardless," Arthur said, "I wanted to know if you would be there. If you'd stay with me and help me build a kingdom that cherishes its people rather than exploits them."

"Of course I will, Arthur. I couldn't leave even if I tried." The warlock smirked then. "You see, I _have_ tried to leave before but to no avail so it looks as though I'm stuck."

Arthur laughed in reply. "I think there are worse places to be stuck," the prince's smile turned into a mischievous one as his mouth descended on Merlin's once more and neither of them seemed to have much else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taken from kinkme_merlin prompt (#8) _Arthur/Merlin, lost in the woods. Basically I just want the boys wandering out in the forest for a few days at least, preferably far from Camelot and trying to find their way back. Bonus points for fighting!boys who have to make up in order to survive the wilderness together. Extra-sugary bonus points for hurt!Merlin at some point._


	6. Cohesively Unsuitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the past finally laid bare between them, Merlin and Arthur escape Morgause's illusion to find that the attack on Camelot by the magical realm has only just begun. Despite their attempts to prevent it, the men find that war is now the only foreseeable option.

Merlin stared up at the blue sky that peeked through the leaves and branches of the trees above his head. His overcoat was bunched into a ball under his head and his right hand laced lazily through the golden strands of Arthur's matted and sweat-soaked hair. Merlin followed the clouds as they raced past his small vantage point, not enough of a view to really make out full shapes.

He felt the heavy weight of Arthur's head rise as he let out a long breath. The prince was using his stomach as a pillow, which Merlin knew could not be entirely comfortable thanks to his lanky frame and bony muscles, but Arthur did not complain.

"Merlin," Arthur spoke slowly, as though they had just finished a drawn out battle and could not commit the energy needed to speak like normal human beings. This wasn't the case; in fact they had been lying about like lazy sods for the last few hours, but it wasn't as if anyone could call them on it.

"Yeah," Merlin replied in the same manner, scratching lightly at Arthur's scalp and feeling the blond curl into his touch. A grin crossed his face at the prince's reaction—it was something so primal and yet entirely out of character for someone of Arthur's stature, so it was nice to see that even as a prince, Arthur was still just a bloke like any other.

"If I promise not to act irrationally, will you answer my question honestly?" Arthur had his gaze trained at the sky when Merlin glanced down at him.

While Merlin did not know exactly what the question was, he could take a few guesses as to what it _might_ be, partially because there were some things they hadn't already spoken of and partially because he could hear the undertone of Arthur's voice. "I will," Merlin replied, though his voice felt raspy as it scratched its way up his throat.

"Was it true, about my mother? That my father used magic to conceive a child?" Arthur passed him a glance then and their eyes locked in a silent battle: Arthur was challenging Merlin to lie to him and Merlin was wishing that he _could_ lie, if only to make things easier on the blond.

"Yes, it was true." There were millions of things Merlin wanted to say to Arthur then about situational decisions, magical consequences, anything and everything that might ease the prince's anger, but it seemed that there was no anger to quell. It was possible that Arthur had since fought and won against his chagrin and this was both comforting and frightening to Merlin.

Arthur still stared at him, but his face turned childlike and hopeful as he asked, "Was that _really_ my mother who spoke to me?"

In his heart, Merlin knew that Arthur knew the answer to the question, but the hope in his face made Merlin wish that it truly had been Ygraine that held and comforted her son that day. "It's possible that all the words that were spoken were true, Arthur, but I don't think that was your mother. No one can bring back the dead, not _truly_, and we both know Morgause is a terribly powerful sorceress, so conjuring up images like that would not be trouble to her."

Arthur answered with a sad, knowing smile and he rested his head against Merlin's stomach once more; the warlock resumed his combing through Arthur's hair and the blond seemed to approve. "It would be nice, I think, to pretend it was her, even though it really wasn't. She was beautiful," Arthur spoke wistfully and Merlin felt a painful tug in his gut at the words. It was difficult not to be able to offer comfort to Arthur in this, but the truth was that Merlin _had_ gotten to meet his father, even if for only a short time. It was more than Arthur had ever known but always wanted for and Merlin could not help but feel guilty over it. He wished that he could trade places with Arthur and give Arthur the opportunity in his stead. Merlin wished for everything to be easier for Arthur, but there was nothing he could actually do about it and that was the failure that resonated within him the most.

"Do you still resent him? Do you think that he knew what would happen?" Merlin hated asking, but he needed to know that Arthur would not attempt to kill his father again. Uther was going to die, but it would not be by Arthur's hand if Merlin had anything to do with it. If the world took its course accordingly, Uther would die the way he was meant to and not because Morgause or Morgana or anyone wished it to be so.

Arthur remained silent for a while. He held a piece of grass between his fingers, dirt flaking from his skin and beneath his fingernails as he rolled the green length between finger and thumb. Slowly, thoughtfully, he replied, "I do not know. I do not wish him dead, as before, but only because I've had time to think about it. I know my father well, Merlin, even though we are very different. He is not cruel intentionally—he acts the way he feels he is supposed to, both as a king and as a father. He pushes me because he has to, not because he really wants to see me risk my life and limb every chance I get. It is his duty as a king to ensure his kingdom has a future ruler of like principles as he; he has to be certain that Camelot will not fall to ruin after he has died.

"I believe that my father had the full idea of what dangers could happen when he entrusted my mother to Nimueh's magic, but I do not believe he expected anything to come to pass. If he was truly aware of the danger my mother was in, I don't think he would have been able to go through with it, in the end. I believe him when he says he loved her as I think any man would, knowing what I have been told about her." Arthur sat up and Merlin's hand fell away from the prince's head. He turned and faced Merlin, who sat up as well and looked intently into Arthur's face as the man spoke.

"While I do think that she may feel betrayed by my father because he chose the kingdom over his love for her, I don't believe she would want me to be at odds with him. He has raised me the best he could, with what he had been given, and I may have never had a mother, but I never had want for a father. He has made his mistakes as we all do, Merlin, but he has done his best in other ways and I cannot pin him as wholly evil."

Merlin shook his head at that. "I do not think he is evil, Arthur. Misinformed, twisted by grief, yes, but I know he cares about Camelot."

"He is not a forward thinking man, but it can't be expected of men in his generation. There are things besides his persecution of magic I do not agree with, but I cannot hate him for doing what he feels is best. I can only hope that when I become king, he will not be disappointed in me for doing what _I_ feel is best, even though it will not be as he has done."

"He loves you, Arthur, and he would never be disappointed in you."

Arthur caught Merlin's gaze then. "I will end the persecution of magic, but I will not allow those like Morgause to terrorise as they see fit."

Merlin felt his back straighten at Arthur's words. He nodded eagerly. "Of course! I will help you, Arthur. No one can fault you for stopping those who wish to cause harm. It is the way with magical people just as normal people. Anyone can be good or bad, magic or no."

"Merlin," Arthur spoke quietly. "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," Merlin replied without thought.

"I need you to—to do magic around me more. I need to get used to it or I'll never be comfortable with it. With you, even. I want to feel content with you—with _all_ of you."

Merlin nodded and he felt both excited and anxious. In his gut he knew that Arthur did not hate him for having magic, but he also knew that Arthur feared his magic and that was to be expected. There were so many things Merlin wanted to show Arthur that he could do, but he had to rein in his enthusiasm and consider what would be _too_ much to show Arthur then. Merlin's magic had grown healthily over the years and he knew he had ages to go before he'd reach his full potential, which meant he would do greater things than even he could do now and some of these would only work to frighten Arthur.

Merlin decided to start with something simple. He looked at the piece of grass Arthur still fingered and he held out his hand and concentrated on it. He allowed the tension to build within him and then felt the cool release as blue eyes flashed golden and the magic washed through him, familiar and warm. The piece of grass vacated the enclosure of Arthur's fingertips and floated up and away from the prince, landing in Merlin's hand only seconds later.

Arthur watched, frozen in his own excitement and discontent. It was such a fantastical thing to behold and he could not help but be interested, but it did not make it much less frightening, either. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and he blurted out, "Have you used magic to do your chores?"

Merlin's face crinkled in amusement and then he was laughing at Arthur, who looked indignant in return. "Not _always_," Merlin replied eventually and Arthur smiled despite himself.

"It defies all the laws of servitude, you know. The hard work is supposed to be rewarding, especially for those in service to the royal family."

Merlin looked aghast. "I put in just as much work with my magic as I would with my own hands. It's not as easy as it looks!"

Arthur shook his head disbelieving, though he knew it probably was an exhausting thing to do, if not physically then mentally. "Show me something else," Arthur said and he was surprised at how eager he sounded and truly felt.

Merlin looked thoughtful for a moment before he decided upon something and placed his palm against the forest floor. Arthur watched as Merlin's eyes changed colours, but otherwise saw nothing happening. After a few minutes, Arthur said, "I suppose it can't always work?"

Merlin only shook his head and a smile rippled his face when he finally got the results he sought. Arthur watched as water began to rise from beneath the brown earth, seeping and oozing from the dirt as though it were completely natural for water to ascend from the ground rather than seep down into it. Arthur looked impressed. "Where'd you get that from?"

Merlin shrugged. "From the earth. It's full of water, you just have to look for it." It sounded simple enough, but Arthur was positive that it wasn't.

"Do you have to discipline yourself? I mean, everything you try doesn't always work, does it?" It bothered Arthur that someone could do something so easily, without having to train as one would to be a great swordsman.

Merlin laughed. "Of course it doesn't. I've spent hours trying to get a spell to work only to have no result. Everything requires practice, even magic."

This put Arthur's mind at ease. He nodded. Eventually he asked, "Can you conjure things from nothing?"

Merlin shook his head. "There are laws that govern magic just as those that govern all things. While I can make something seemingly appear from nothing, the energy and the elements that make up that thing have to come from _somewhere_. It is possible that it may come from leagues away from where I perform the magic, but the repercussions are real. If I conjure something, like a plant, for it to be alive and not just an illusion, the life has to come from somewhere else. In such a case, it may just be exchange of one plant for another—for the plant to appear here and to decompose from elsewhere—but the larger and more conscious the object is, the less likely it is I can construct it.

"There's a balance for all magic, just like there is for the world. If you kill a buck, you feed your people but you also cause any offspring that buck could have produced to not exist, in turn destroying a life source or a food source for something else in the world. You can't do anything without consequence, as you know, but especially not magic. Displacing things doesn't call for elemental construction, but when you venture into the realm of living beings then creating one cannot be done without destroying another."

Arthur felt something in his mind click and he said, albeit quietly, "My mother's death for my birth."

Merlin had not ever thought of it that way. Truly, he had thought that it was the magic itself that had killed Ygraine and not a balance to be restored, but now that Arthur said it, he knew that it was true. "It does not always work the way we wish it to. You can barter your life for another's, but no one can really decide who will go. The price is known, but not the source of the payment."

"Did my father know this?" Arthur asked, even though he was positive Merlin couldn't know that answer.

"We can't know for certain, but it is a basic rule that sorcerers are wholly aware of, Nimueh included."

"But he could have offered his own life for my mother to conceive, knowing the price to create a life."

Merlin worried his bottom lip and he nodded. "He might have done that and expected it to work. When it did not go as he had planned, it might have spurred his hatred toward magic."

"Nothing is worse for a king than uncertainty, Merlin."

The warlock nodded. "I suppose so."

Arthur sighed. "We have to consider all possible consequences for everything we do because being taken by surprise isn't an option. We have to be ready for anything and everything."

Merlin nodded again. "That doesn't mean that things won't happen that you aren't prepared for, though."

Arthur agreed, "No, but we try our best to lower the possibility."

"Well, that's all you can really—" Merlin's mouth closed sharply and he perked up like a startled deer. Arthur almost asked what he was doing, but then he heard the crunch of leaves nearby and adopted an identical stance to Merlin's.

Merlin was on his feet not long after and offered Arthur a hand, which Arthur used to stand up. Merlin did not release the prince's hand after. Instead he said quietly, "Don't let go of me," and began chanting something under his breath. Arthur did not see the warlock's eyes flash a hue of gold as he was watching for the assailant, but he knew Merlin was performing magic and saw a shift in the air around them before a familiar frame appeared before them.

"Morgause," Arthur spoke and he unconsciously squeezed Merlin's hand.

"I see you've finally figured out how to break the enchantment," Morgause replied. She was dressed not in her usual trousers and tunic, but a flowing dress of white trimmed with golden lace. Her eyes were not painted so heavily with black and to Arthur's eyes, she looked more beautiful than he knew her to be. This did not take off his nervous edge, but rather put him on higher alert that something was amiss.

"So this _was_ your doing," Merlin said and Morgause's face twisted angrily as she regarded the warlock's presence.

"Obviously," she replied with disdain. "I did not have the chance to say in our previous meeting, but I was successful in reversing the poison you gave to my sister. Though I saved her, your attempt will never be forgiven, Emrys. When the time is right, I will slay you myself."

At the news that Morgana was alright, Merlin felt relief wash through him and he saw a mirrored look in Arthur's face. Merlin had to resist the urge to tell Morgause to get in the queue, because he knew many others who wanted to kill him. The indifference he felt when thinking such a thought frightened him. Was he so numb to the threat of death now that he accepted his eventual fate with ease? "What did you send us here for, Morgause?" In some ways he would be grateful to Morgause, however twisted her intensions were, because he and Arthur may not ever have gotten to the place they were now without being trapped in this enchanted forest.

"It was preparation."

Arthur spoke next. "For what?"

"For you, Arthur. Morgana and I felt that you would never have a chance to warm to magic within the walls of Camelot, not with Uther breathing his disdain down the back of your neck. So it made sense to allow you and Merlin some time alone so that you could get more comfortable. Now you can see that magic is not evil."

Merlin's face twisted with antipathy and he took a step forward, but Arthur held his hand firmly and did not allow him to advance on the woman. "No, it is _you_ who is evil, Morgause. It is because of sorcerers like you that men's minds, like Uther's, twist to the extreme."

"Uther's mind twisted because he refused to take responsibility for murdering his wife."

"He did not—" Arthur began, his voice level, but fire brimmed each syllable. He would lose his temper soon.

"He as good as murdered her. Nimueh knew the price of creating life just as Uther did. He did not ask for his life in exchange for his son's. He did not even _consider_ who might pay with her life to restore the balance. When Ygraine died, instead of owning up to his own mistakes, he persecuted _us_ to console himself. He is no more fit to rule a kingdom than your simpleton of a servant, Arthur Pendragon."

Out of all that Morgause said, the thing that fueled Arthur's anger the most was her slight toward Merlin. But as he stepped forward, Merlin was holding him back just as Arthur had done. "And who would you consider a rightful ruler, Morgause?"

"You, of course. You are already a better king for Camelot than your father has ever been. Though it cost Ygraine her life, we are glad that her sacrifice has given us a chance at salvation. You are destined for more than just kingship over your father's lands. With our help, you will ascend to High King and together, you and I shall reunite Albion under the Old Religion."

Arthur could hardly believe what the witch was saying to him. High King and ruling Albion together with _Morgause_? "I will never rule with you nor will I seek help from evil sorcery."

"I will become queen of the Old World, Arthur, just as you will be king of the New World. Together we can rule Albion justly, striking down only those who wish to raise onslaught against magic. We have a chance to right the wrongs of your father and restore the world to its former harmony."

"Only those who are in league with _you_ will suffer persecution, Morgause. Release Morgana back to us so she does not share your fate." Arthur had no knowledge that Morgana was being held against her will, but it only made sense to him. Even knowing her disdain toward his father, it was still _Morgana_ and he did not want to admit that she was truly at odds with him as well as Uther.

"Morgana does not stand by my side against her will, Arthur. She will never crawl into the clutches of Uther Pendragon again, as you very well know."

They were all silent for some time. Arthur considered his options, but they were few. "If Morgana chooses to stand with you," Arthur began slowly, trying to ignore the stabbing pain he felt in his chest, "and against my father, she is an enemy to Camelot and an enemy to myself. We will have no choice but to strike her down along with you."

Morgause's face was turning furious with every word. "After all you have been through, Arthur, you still choose to defend your murdering father?"

"I do not condone his decisions of the past, Morgause, but I will not strike down a man who only did his best for his son and his country. He may have been misguided in his persecution of magic, but he was not wrong in thinking that some magic is evil. Your magic is evil, Morgause, and I will never give you the chance to take up ladyship over any realm of Albion, new or old."

Morgause lost her temper. Two balls of fire formed above both of her palms and she screamed in outrage, sending both of the flames toward Arthur and Merlin. They reverberated off of an invisible shield that surrounded the prince and the warlock and that only stirred the witch's anger more. "_You_ have no say in the magical realm, Arthur Pendragon, and if this is the decision you've made, you will regret it just as your father will!"

"We will stop whatever evil you are planning, Morgause!" Merlin yelled back at her. As the disdain flew back and forth between the sorcerers, the world around them began to dissolve. Like a crumbling castle, the trees and sky collapsed to reveal a night sky and the familiar forest on the outcroppings of the village of Cranwell. The knights that had accompanied Merlin and Arthur were reappearing and others were turning up as well. They all advanced on the witch who, seeing that she was outnumbered, spoke words and then vanished from the clearing.

Merlin finally released Arthur's hand and the prince saw a change in the space around them—the shield had dissolved. "Sire! Are you alright?"

Arthur looked up into the face of Gareth, who looked frightened, but seemingly trying to hide it. Arthur asked, "Is everyone alright? Where's the beast?"

"It has disappeared, sire," Leodegrance announced as he and a few other knights arrived. "We were holding it back from the village, but it suddenly dissolved in front of us. We heard the distress in this area but have only just arrived."

There was no upheaval of confusion, so Arthur believed that however much time had passed for them in their illusion of a forest had not passed here as well. "Gather the men and regroup in the village. We will keep the knights posted around the village and remain until we can destroy the beast."

This did not turn out to be necessary because the beast never returned. Merlin figured that Morgause had called it off, having made her 'point' and gotten Arthur's attention. Not receiving the welcome she was hoping for, Merlin and Arthur both speculated that she was planning something else entirely.

After four days, they returned to Camelot and relayed the news to Uther. He was in distress over the knowledge that Morgause could only be planning an attack on Camelot and had swept Arthur and Gaius off to begin planning some sort of defense. Merlin's first thought was to go to the depths of the castle and ask the dragon what he thought Morgause's plan might be, but then he remembered that the dragon was gone and he was left to speculate for himself.

\-------

Weeks passed and nothing happened. Though Merlin did not _want_ to see an attack on Camelot, the wait was beginning to worry him more than the impending doom. The same went for Arthur.

"I can't just _sit_ here any longer, Merlin! There's got to be something we can do!" Arthur paced his chambers fruitlessly, throwing exasperated hand gestures and fisting at his hair in frustration.

"Arthur, come sit down," Merlin said, patting the bed next to him. He could pretend as though he had some explanation for Arthur, but he didn't. Gaius nor Merlin could think of any good that would come from attempting a preemptive strike, especially not knowing where Morgause was hiding. Arthur obliged Merlin and took a seat on the edge of his bed, worrying his palms over his face and through his hair once more.

"Here," Merlin spoke, and tugged at the hem of Arthur's tunic until he raised his arms and allowed Merlin to remove it. He positioned himself behind Arthur then and placed a hand on either of the prince's shoulders and began to knead at the tight muscles around Arthur's neck.

"Merlin," Arthur said resigned, leaning into Merlin's touch. "Is there nothing we can do?"

"Not without knowing where she might be or what she might be planning. We are better off waiting, as difficult as it is." Merlin dug his thumbs deeply as he could into Arthur's skin, apply pressure to work out the tension that Arthur was carrying and hopefully relax the man somewhat.

Arthur did not respond this time, only hummed, and Merlin felt the prince relaxing beneath his touch. He smiled sadly at the back of Arthur's head. "It will be alright, Arthur. We'll be ready," Merlin said quietly near the prince's right ear, though he couldn't be sure of that. The warlock wanted to plant a kiss on Arthur skin, but he faltered at the last moment and pulled away, continuing to work at Arthur's muscles.

As he marveled at the expanse of Arthur's skin and muscle beneath his hands his courage flared to life and he leaned forward and placed a warm kiss against Arthur's left shoulder, just above the shoulder bone. When he pulled back he saw the bone protrude from Arthur's back as he flexed from the touch of Merlin's lips. Then Arthur was twisting and turning beneath Merlin's fingers and before he knew what was happening, Merlin was caught within Arthur's strong grasp around his waist and he was kissing Merlin, pressing himself against the warlock and pushing his back into the soft linens of Arthur's bed.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured weakly when the prince released his mouth and began to explore Merlin's neck and collarbone with his tongue and teeth. When Arthur nipped him lightly, Merlin's mind flared and he rutted himself against Arthur's thigh, hissing at the friction he received. It felt _wonderful_ and he wanted to do it again but Arthur placed a firm hand on Merlin's stomach and stopped the rocking of Merlin's hips. Merlin whimpered in response, flushing at the ridiculous sound he'd made and heard Arthur chuckle low in his throat.

His disapproval faded as Arthur's hand brushed at the waist of his trousers and then he was unlacing them with ease. The prince's hand traveled up, beneath Merlin's tunic and away from that place Merlin wanted to feel his touch so badly. He looked into Arthur's face questioningly and the prince said, "Will you remove them?" Merlin nodded and began squirming but Arthur's hand was pressing firmly against his stomach again. "No, Merlin, use your magic," Arthur chided and he held himself up above Merlin, staring down into the warlock's face. A calloused hand touched the side of Merlin's cheek and trained his gaze to the prince's and then stilled. At first Merlin was unsure how to proceed but then he pulled himself together and concentrated on his trousers and looked into Arthur's face as he began to rid himself of them with his mind. He watched Arthur's eyes close and then reopen slowly and they looked dark and intense when they resurfaced from beneath his eyelids. Arthur leaned down and kissed him with renewed vigour, the hand on his cheek trailing down his shoulder, arm, stomach and back to his waiting erection.

The blond wrapped his warm fingers around Merlin's length and the warlock felt a jolt of desire run up his spine and he shivered beneath the prince's touch. Arthur was not paying him a lot of attention, however. His hands were fumbling around his cock and then they were palming at his balls before reaching further until—_oh!_ Merlin's whole body went rigid and he felt his arse tighten around Arthur's finger like a vice. The prince sighed. "_Merlin_," Arthur whispered, "Relax." Then Arthur had his lips on Merlin's collarbone again, exploring with tongue and teeth toward Merlin's sensitive ears, which he sucked and licked and nibbled at, breath puffing warmly into Merlin's ear. The warlock melted into Arthur's touch until the prince was pressing a finger deeper inside of him. Not long after there were two fingers pumping slowly into Merlin's warm hole, only _just_ shy of the sweet spot that would send Merlin into the throws of passion. Arthur pulled his fingers out and raised them to Merlin's cock, running them over the head to slicken them with pre-cum and then he was back at Merlin's arse, three fingers pressing eagerly into the warlock with a steady rhythm. Soon Arthur was thrusting his hips against Merlin's thigh in sync with his pumping fingers.

"Arthur," Merlin hummed low in his throat. "_Please_," the warlock said then and Arthur took this to mean that the man was ready for him. Merlin watched as the prince pulled away and groaned when Arthur's fingers vacated the inside his arse, the warmth missed as soon as it was gone. The prince was fumbling at the waist of his trousers, trying to hurry and getting frustrated as his fingers did not work properly. Merlin concentrated once more and then the trousers hit the floor and Arthur looked up at him, surprise and amusement flashing across his face. Amusement twisted into mischief and Arthur's hands wrapped around either of Merlin's ankles, yanking the warlock toward the edge of the bed until his arse was all but hanging off the edge.

Arthur pulled a vial of oil from his night table and slathered it messily over his own cock, the oil dripping down his thighs and onto Merlin's cock below, which twitched in response. Then Arthur had two hands on Merlin's arse and was spreading him and pressing the head of his erection to Merlin's entrance, moaning before he'd even entered him. But then he was thrusting forward, into the warmth of Merlin's hole and both of the men groaned in unison, Merlin fisting at the bed linens at the flash of pain and pleasure that shocked through him. Arthur's first few thrusts were harsh and deep and painful and Merlin tried to hide the discomfort he felt but he knew that the prince could read his reactions all too well now. The blond pulled out of Merlin then and leaned down, pressing his face against Merlin's. "I'm sorry," Arthur spoke against Merlin's lips and then kissed him deeply.

When Arthur pulled away from him Merlin offered the other man a smile, "It's alright," he said and then added, "go ahead."

Arthur nodded, placing his rough hands on Merlin's slender hips and slowly pressed himself into Merlin again. This time the pain was minimal and Arthur stilled inside of him, allowing the dark haired man to stretch until the feeling of Arthur filling him became almost unbearable. He wrapped his legs around Arthur's waist, locking his ankles together, pulled back and then thrust his hips back down onto Arthur's cock and Arthur moaned and Merlin called out a sharp '_gods!_' as the head of Arthur's cock pressed against his prostate.

When Merlin managed to open his eyes he saw Arthur staring down at him with dark, heavily lidded eyes, a look of pleasure and want on his face that looked so beautiful and desirable all at once. Unconsciously his hand slid down his own stomach and wrapped around his length and he pumped himself as he looked into Arthur's blue eyes. The prince began to match Merlin's thrusts, alternating between slow and deep thrusts and quick angled pumping into the warlock's arse that splayed spots across his vision.

"Merlin," he heard Arthur moan rather than say and the prince was batting away the warlock's hand from his cock and Arthur began to thumb at the head with uneven strokes, still thrusting into Merlin's arse at strange angles now that he had only one hand anchored on Merlin's bony hip. Arthur's rough caress on Merlin's cock turned into haphazard tugging as the prince's thrusts became more urgent and cockeyed.

Soon he was ramming into Merlin's prostate again and again and again and then the warlock could not see anything but the back of his own eyelids as his orgasm ripped through him and he felt himself tighten around Arthur's thrusting cock, moaning out, "_ArthurArthurArthur_." Merlin's hips bucked wildly about as the head of Arthur's penis still knocked almost painfully against his prostate and Arthur's hand tugged at his cock now slick with Merlin's released seed.

As Merlin felt his lower half begin to relax from the throws of his release, he watched as Arthur finally reached his climax. The prince braced his hands on Merlin's hips again and thrust twice more, deep and angled into Merlin's arse until his legs went rigid and his head arched back, "_Oh bloody fuck!_" falling from his lips. He rutted into Merlin as he rode through his orgasm and then he began to sway dangerously before he collapsed forward, falling heavily against Merlin's chest with shaky, heaving breaths. The warlock tangled his fingers in Arthur's sweaty hair, the prince pulling slickly from Merlin's arse and pressing his softened length into Merlin's own sticky cock. Lazily he turned his head and kissed the exposed flesh of Merlin's chest in the dip of his rumpled tunic.

When they'd regained more composure, they sidled up more comfortably on the bed, Arthur sprawled half over Merlin's chest, his face pressed into the crook of the pale man's neck. "Mmmm," the warlock heard Arthur hum against his throat and Merlin leaned down and kissed to top of Arthur's head.

"Do you really think I'll be High King?" Arthur mumbled into Merlin's skin.

"Who knows? It could happen."

"What about what she said? If magic returns to the country, does there need to be someone to rule over it?" Arthur turned and tried to look into Merlin's face but he didn't quite lift his head high enough to look at the man's eyes so instead he was staring at Merlin's jutting chin.

"I'm not certain. I guess there should be, but I don't know how that is decided."

"What about you?" Arthur asked him, resting his head against Merlin's shoulder again. He felt Merlin shift under him and suspected a quizzical look graced the man's face.

"What _about_ me?"

"You would be a good ruler." The way Arthur said it actually sounded genuine, but Merlin laughed at him in response. Arthur felt slighted. "You would!"

"I'm not going to rule anything, Arthur. Just because I may get more powerful in the future doesn't mean I have the right to tell others what to do with their magic."

"Well who would you have do it then?"

"I don't know. I barely know enough magicians to count on my hands so I'm sure there is someone more qualified than I out there." Merlin did not say that the thought of being a ruler of anything scared him and he was not sure how Arthur dealt with such a burden. Also he was afraid of what that sort of power would do to him. And he did not want to leave Arthur's side, even if he _was_ right for the job, whatever that job really was.

"I think you'd be good at it," Arthur said again and Merlin was about to protest but he was derailed by a tapping noise on Arthur's window. They both sat up instantly and Arthur had his sword in hand before he'd even stood.

"It's a bird," Merlin said, advancing on the window and opening it despite Arthur's grumble of protest that it might be a trick. The bird flew into the room and landed on the table where Arthur usually ate and held out its leg to the prince. Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion before he noticed that there was something wrapped around the bird's leg. He pulled it free and the black bird swooped instantly from the room and back out the window, which Merlin shut after him. "What is it?" the warlock asked and came to stand near Arthur.

"Morgause," Arthur answered. "She wants me to come and meet her somewhere to _negotiate_."

Merlin snorted. "To kill you."

"Probably," Arthur replied with little feeling.

"I'm going with you," Merlin said immediately after, holding up his hand when Arthur began to disagree. "You know what happens when you try to do things on your own. Something awful, usually."

"You don't believe in me?" he tried to keep the need for approval from his voice, but was not certain that he'd succeeded.

"Of course I do, but Arthur, she's a sorceress. She's not going to fight fairly."

"Yeah," the prince replied reluctantly. "We have to go show my father. He's not going to like this."

"Shall I prepare our secret escape?" Merlin asked and offered the blond a lopsided grin.

"I would say not to be so preemptive, but I'm sure that is what it will come down to."

It turned out to be just as they expected, but Uther was more prepared for Arthur's attempted escapes this time round and had guards outside his windows and door. It wasn't difficult for the two of them to take care of the guards, especially now that Merlin could use his magic openly around Arthur. When they were passed out on the floor in front of Arthur's chambers, the two of them snuck quietly through the empty corridors and did not speak until they had put some distance between them and the castle.

"We're going to have to kill her," Arthur said finally and Merlin was not sure whom he was referring to. It was possible Arthur was thinking of both Morgause and Morgana, but Merlin did not want to think that they would have to kill the Lady Morgana. It was not something he wanted to do again.

"I guess we'll see when we get there," Merlin replied a few moments later, not wanting to voice any of his fears though they shared them equally.

Their meeting place became familiar to Merlin as they descended on it. This was the same lake that Merlin had cast Freya's body away—the same that Sophia and her father had tried to sacrifice Arthur in so long ago. It was the entrance to Avalon and Merlin felt this put he and Arthur at a disadvantage to Morgause. He didn't know for certain if Morgause had been to Avalon before but he had a feeling that she had. The witch was nowhere in sight when the two of them arrived so they dismounted their horses wearily, Arthur's sword at the ready.

The only noises they faced were those of the forest but that didn't quell the worry in Merlin's chest. Something bad was going to happen and he was afraid he was not ready to face it. '_Emrys_' Merlin heard a familiar projection in his mind and he groaned. He turned toward the sound and saw Morgana and Mordred advancing on him and Arthur.

"Hello, Arthur. Merlin," Morgana said as though they were back in the castle, exchanging pleasantries in the corridors. She inclined her head respectfully to the both of them and Merlin swore he saw uncertainty flash in her eyes, but she looked collected as always when she faced them fully.

"Morgana," Arthur replied, his voice urgent. "You need to leave. You shouldn't be here."

The sorceress shook her head. "I'm sorry, Arthur, but I can't. This is where I belong. Here with Mordred and Morgause and people who are like _me_."

"Morgana," Merlin heard himself saying without thought. "These aren't good people. They have magic but they aren't—"

"They have accepted me for who I am, Merlin, something that never would have occurred in Camelot. If Uther had found out of my power, he would have had me killed just as easily as someone who he did not know. He cares only about his revenge and nothing about those he hurts because of it."

Merlin felt desperate. "But this isn't the _answer_, Morgana! We can come to some agreement, there doesn't have to be war! Uther doesn't have to know what we decide and we can keep everyone safe from his persecution until Arthur is king!" Merlin hadn't really thought of this before but now that he said it, it was an option he should have considered. If those with magic would agree to live in secret until Uther's reign was finished then no one else had to die.

He searched Morgana's face for anything akin to acceptance and felt as though he saw it. She hesitated and looked at Mordred who then steeled himself and bore his eyes at Merlin. "We aren't going to fall for your tricks, Emrys. You have shown that you do not ally yourself with the idea of free magic in Albion."

"I do! Of course I do!" Merlin shouldn't have had to plead with them like this, but he didn't care. He would do anything to prevent a fight, especially when it involved Arthur. "Keeping it a secret won't hurt though! Uther has made his mistakes, but Arthur is not going to condemn those who do not use their magic to harm others! If we just wait until Uther has gone—"

"We will not wait for Uther Pendragon's natural demise when we can bring it about ourselves," Merlin heard Morgause say, but he did not see her. The air behind Morgana and Mordred shimmered and shifted and then there she was, in the same soft outfit she had been when Arthur and Merlin had seen her in the illusionary forest.

Merlin threw up his hands and he felt Arthur shifting uneasily next to him, looking both at the warlock and the other three magical beings uneasily. Merlin tried to cast him a reassuring look, but his face was twisted in exasperation and he couldn't shake it. "If you don't move against Uther, no one else has to die! Just leave him alone and let him die alone with his mistakes and regrets! Then we can unite Albion again under magic! Don't do this, Morgause!"

"Uther killed Ygraine willingly and I will not let him get away with it. He does not deserve a long life nor a natural demise when he tore such an option away from Ygraine!"

Arthur suddenly roared, "He already pays for his mistakes, Morgause! He pays every day for the love he has lost and the guilt he feels because of it. He loved my mother dearly and he suffers every day without her!"

"It is not enough! He deserves the physical anguish that Ygraine had to suffer!"

"Do you think my mother would want you to do this? I can see you cared for her, Morgause, and I know she probably cared for you—do you think she would want you to do this?"

"Of course!" the woman answered automatically, but there was a hitch in her reply that said that she did not really know for certain.

"I did not know her, but I think she would rather we end things peacefully," Arthur said as calmly as he could manage. Merlin nodded in agreement and encouragement and looked to the sorceress in question. Morgana and Mordred looked to the woman as well and the four of them seemed equally hopeful for an easy end to all the hatred that surrounded Morgause.

The woman shook her head and suddenly screamed, "Enough! That is enough talking! I will not be told what to do by a spoiled prince who knows nothing of what has happened before his time, nor a weak sorcerer who would rather toil at the feet of the Pendragons than stand with those who would accept him for who he is willingly!"

"It isn't like that! It does not have to be them or us—"

"It does, Ambrosius! Thanks to Uther Pendragon that is all it summates to! I will not cower in fear while Uther finishes his tyranny! I will fight for the will to live as I was created by the Old Religion!"

Merlin sighed, feeling helpless. Nothing he said would sway Morgause from the betrayal that ran so deeply within her. "Then I will fight against you, Morgause," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur put a hand on Merlin's shoulder and said, louder than the warlock, "And I will fight with him." Arthur straightened his shoulders and held his sword out as a warning.

The witch glared at the both of them and said, "Then you will die together!" A flash of white light erupted around her and Merlin had to cover his eyes to keep from going blind. When he looked again none of the other three were standing there anymore.

"What happened?" Arthur asked at once, moving forward and swinging his arms around as though feeling for invisible masses around him.

"I don't know, but they are not far," Merlin said, not sure how he could know this but knowing it none-the-less. "How are we going to fight her, Arthur?" Merlin stared helplessly at the prince, eyes wide with terror and brimming with tears.

The blond walked toward him and pulled him into a hug. "We will do our best, Merlin, and hope that it is enough."

It was not at all reassuring but Merlin clung to the prince's chainmail with a vice-like grip, staring over his shoulder toward the lake. Suddenly Merlin remembered the sword he'd cast into the lake so long ago and then there it was, emerging from beneath the water as if Merlin had beckoned it hither. He turned Arthur around and pointed at the floating sword that was coming toward the prince now of its own accord.

"What—" Arthur began to ask, but he was cut off by a disembodied voice filling the air around the two of them with a warmth and comfort Merlin recognised, but did not know from where.

"Take the sword, Arthur Pendragon," spoke the female voice, so soft and endearing that Merlin felt like his mother was speaking to him, though the woman's voice did not resemble his mother's in the slightest. "It is Excalibur and it was made for you by those who would see you rule the land as a just and righteous king." The sword finally stopped in front of the bewildered prince, who made no move to reach for it. He was holding the hilt of his own sword so tightly it hurt.

"Do not be afraid," the voice said, all the more soothingly, and Arthur's grip went lax on his sword almost immediately. He stuck the blade of the sword into the ground next to him, but still could not bring himself to grab the floating sword hilt—Excalibur, she had called it.

He felt Merlin touch his arm and Arthur looked over at him. "Go on," the warlock told him quietly. With that, Arthur reached forward and took Excalibur by the hilt. At first it was as though he held nothing, but then the sword began to weigh within his grip—just the right amount for a perfectly balanced sword.

"Take it and use it wisely, Arthur Pendragon, but be forewarned: if you are to use the sword in a manner that does not befit an honest king, the consequences will be severe."

Arthur nodded then, at nothing because no one was standing before him, but he felt as though whomever it was that spoke knew exactly what he was doing. "I will do my best to honour the sword as you have honoured me by giving it, my Lady. Thank you."

"Good luck," said the voice and then all was silent around them, the noises of the forest returning as if nothing had occurred at all. Arthur looked down at the embellished sword, whispering, "Excalibur," as he ran a gloved finger over the blade. He looked up at Merlin then and saw a ridiculous grin on the bloke's face. "Who do you think made it?" Arthur asked him, ignoring the strangeness of Merlin's look.

"Er," Merlin said and he ran a hand through his already messy black hair. "Well, Tom made the blade. Gwen's father," said Merlin and Arthur looked aghast at the warlock.

"How do you know _that_?"

"Because I'm the one that got it for you," Merlin replied simply as though this was common knowledge the prince should already possess.

"What do you mean?" Arthur looked skeptically at his servant and then at the sword.

"When the black knight came to Camelot, we didn't know how to defeat it and when you challenged him, I had to come up with some way for you to fight him and not get killed. I got the sword from Gwen, who said it was the best Tom had ever made, and I took it to the dragon who blessed it with his magic. It was made just for you. But then when your father fought the wraith in your stead, the dragon became angry with me for letting Uther wield the sword that only you should, so I cast it in the lake so that it could not be happened upon by anyone else."

Arthur was speechless and he just kept looking back and forth between the impossibly beautiful sword in his hand and the impossibly beautiful man that stood before him. "_You_ made this sword? For _me_?"

Merlin shook his head insistently. "No no," he was waving his hands in front of him then. "I did nothing but carry the thing. I don't know anything about forging magic swords…or swords in general, really!" Merlin's voice hiked up to almost a shrill volume at the end of his rant.

Arthur chuckled involuntarily. "True, you look ridiculous when you hold a sword…" and then the prince's attention was on the sword once more.

"Thank you, _sire_," Merlin replied sarcastically, though the joy had not left his voice. He was about to speak again but another black bird descended on the two of them, this time landing on a nearby branch and looking intensely at Merlin. Unsure, Merlin took the bird's message and unrolled it as the bird flew away, reading over the message quickly before showing it to Arthur.

"She's giving us a week to prepare?" Arthur read aloud and looked up at his companion. "Prepare what?"

"I don't know," Merlin shook his head, "but whatever she is planning, she needs the time herself or she wouldn't offer us any."

"What should we do?"

"Return to Camelot. Warn your father and prepare for a magical invasion," Merlin replied morosely.

They rode home, first sitting through an endless lecture from the King and Gaius, who both seemed keen on throwing them in the dungeons for the night and possibly long into the following day, but Arthur bore the bad news to the older men and their defiance was soon forgotten. Arthur and Uther recommenced battle planning just as Gaius and Merlin did their best to prepare magically for an onslaught on the kingdom. In the next seven days they would prepare for unknown horrors as best they knew how.

When the week had passed, they queued in the council chambers, gazing out the windows over the walls of Camelot and to the hills and forest beyond. Merlin served food and drink to those within the room until the floors beneath them began to shake, not unlike an earthquake, and Gaius pointed toward the far north.

"They have arrived."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm a big fat liar-face and this story has grown an extra part.


	7. Suitably Unsuitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for fighting has arrived and Merlin, Arthur and all of Camelot must fight against Morgause if they have any hope of restoring the balance of peace between Albion and Avalon once more.

Merlin had never been more aware of the world than at this moment. Standing there, Arthur to his right and the Knights of Camelot behind the two of them, facing off the northern horizon where the army of Morgause advanced toward them. If the ground were to open up and swallow them whole he would be more than happy to let it do so. But there would be no more running for any of them, least of all for Merlin. He had to face this head on—face those like him, yet completely alien from him. It was time for Merlin to realise his destiny just as the dragon had been telling him for those two years. This was Merlin's moment to prove his worth to Arthur, to the world, but most importantly, to himself.

"Remember that Excalibur has magic," Merlin mumbled under his breath so that the knights behind them could not overhear. "It can kill beings with magic, like the wraith."

"Merlin."

Merlin could hear Arthur say his name, but he was too focused on the things that were flooding his mind, even though he and Arthur had already talked about them all a hundred times before. "Be sure you are the one to face anything with magic so that the knights don't waste their energy trying to fight a foe they have no chance of defeating."

"_Merlin_."

"I'll try to take care of anything magical, though, so hopefully you won't have to deal with any of that. Oh Arthur, don't forget to remind the knights of the powders Gaius made them all. Especially the ones that will cause a loud noise or bright light because I'm certain the distraction will help you lot out of a pinch if necessary—"

"_Merlin!_" Arthur called sharply, yanking Merlin out of his rumination and rousing the knights behind him. Their armour chinked as they shifted around uneasily. Arthur lowered his voice before continuing, "I know all this, alright? We've been over it already—it's going to be fine. And would you _stop_ fidgeting, you're driving me mad!"

"No, I can't stop fidgeting! There's a bloody _army_ coming at us, Arthur!" Merlin's voice was shriller than he meant it to be and he was gesturing uselessly toward the forest in front of them.

"Yes, we're all perfectly aware of that, _Merlin_, so would you mind not making my men more nervous than they already are?" Arthur's voice was curt and though Merlin knew that he was just anxious, the harshness still bit him. "If you're going to be useless as usual, I'll send you back to the castle to wait with the handmaidens."

Merlin couldn't help but glance at Arthur then, his eyes practically rolling out of his head. "Right, and who would save your arse when it all goes tits-up, Arthur?"

Merlin heard Gareth snigger behind them, most likely in disbelief that Merlin would be of any use in saving the prince's arse in any situation, much less when they were facing war. Merlin certainly did not look very threatening in his oversized chainmail and sword weighing down his right arm.

"I wouldn't flatter myself _too_ much, Merlin, or you might be eating your words when it's all over." Merlin saw Arthur throw a glance over his shoulder and knew that the blond was putting on a show for his knights.

"Is that a challenge, Pendragon?" Merlin heard himself saying before he could stop it. Oh well, no time for regrets now.

"No, Merlin, I don't think you could handle it," Arthur smirked, a twinkle in his eyes as he gazed over at the sorcerer.

Merlin opened his mouth to retort but a man hollered out then and the knights turned abruptly to face the on-comer. He ran from the east, not the north where Morgause was advancing with her army, but that did not put anyone at ease. Arthur (and consequently Merlin) were surrounded in seconds by the closest knights as the dark haired man finally reached them, panting and doubled over as he caught his breath.

When he finally stood up straight, Merlin was delighted to see his old friend Lancelot staring back at them. The knights fell to the side so that Merlin and Arthur could see him properly. Merlin was about to say a welcome but Lancelot knelt before Arthur and began to speak.

"Lancelot du Lac, sire, here to serve Camelot in any way I may. Please allow me to fight alongside you and your knights even though I will never be one myself. I would be humbled if you would allow me the honour to fight for you."

Arthur placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder and told him to stand. When he did, Arthur held out his right arm, waiting until Lancelot grasped it with his own. "The honour is all mine, Lancelot. I would ask for no better man to fight alongside my knights and me. Just remember you do not fight for me, but for Camelot. She can use all the help she can get, my friend."

"Yes sire," Lancelot replied, gazing at Arthur with utter respect. He shook the prince's forearm he still held in his grasp and then released it. "Thank you."

Arthur only nodded in reply and told the knights to allow Lancelot to stand next to them. When everyone was back in formation, facing toward the forest, Merlin saw the army emerge from it.

Even though they had been calling it an army all along, Merlin still did not expect to see so many bodies coming toward them. Where had all these people come from and why were they listening to Morgause's lies? The army didn't _look_ very impressive—they were a hodgepodge of armour and plain linens, carrying everything from swords to rakes—but the _size_ was what worried Merlin most. Camelot's army was outnumbered _at least_ two to one, something that did not bode well for their chances.

"Arthur…" Merlin started, not really certain as to what he wanted to say.

Arthur said nothing in return, but turned around to face the men behind them. "This is what we have been training for. Do not let your nerves get the better of you. You are all fighters of the highest caliber. They carry sticks and clubs; you carry years of fighting experience. They fight for themselves; you fight for your king, your country and your people. They are fueled by hate and revenge; you are fueled by honour and love.

"Lift your chins high, men, and raise your arms," Arthur lifted Excalibur above his head and shouted, "For Camelot and for Albion!" Camelot's men raised their own voices in turn, and replied, "For Camelot and for Albion!"

Arthur turned around to face north again, Merlin still by his side. "You ready, Merlin?" he asked the sorcerer, sparing him only a small glance.

Merlin nodded, his eyes looking slightly crazed. "Ready as I'll ever be, sire."

"Let's take care of this once and for all, then." Raising his sword once more, Arthur screamed, "_Charge!_" and the men of Camelot sprinted forward toward Morgause's army and engaged in battle.

At first everything was chaos. Metal clanged against metal, screams of pain were apparent from both sides, and Merlin was having trouble concentrating to make certain that magic was not being used. It was his job (or he had made it his job) to spot magic users or spells and warn Arthur and the men to keep them from harm. He expected it to be easier than this, but he'd never been in the mists of a fight of this size before and had apparently over estimated his abilities.

No, that wouldn't do. He _had_ to keep these men from harm—he had to keep _Arthur_ safe. Merlin closed his eyes and did his best to shut out all that went on around him. As he cleared his mind he could hear Arthur shouting, "Merlin, what are you _doing?_" but he ignored the prince and eventually blocked out all sight and sound of the fight. When he was certain he was ready, he opened his eyes and ears again and everything came into crisper focus for him.

The men of Camelot were fighting like automatons, slashing and hacking down one person after another as though it were something they did everyday. It was apparent to Merlin now that Morgause had quantity, but not quality. He knew that what she lacked in foot soldiers, she'd surely make up for in magic, however, and he needed to be ready for when that time came.

For now, it seemed as though she was letting the sword fighting commence unaccompanied by sorcery. In fact, he spotted Morgause among the fray—her blonde hair was tumbling from beneath her helmet as she maneuvered around the battlefield. It wasn't until he'd spotted the sorceress that he noticed Morgana was there as well—she, like Merlin, seemed to be sticking close to her charge.

Merlin had decided to make his way closer to the two witches when Arthur suddenly shoved him from the side, knocking him into a nearby fighter whose sword grazed along the length of Merlin's arm. He screamed from the pain and shock of it, just barely looking up in time to see Arthur slashing aside a man who had been aiming for the back of Merlin's head. "What _on earth_ are you doing, Merlin? You're going to get yourself killed!"

Despite the situation, Merlin could not help but scowl as he ripped a scrap from his tabard to wrap around his bleeding forearm. "I don't need you to protect me, Arthur."

The prince said, "Really? So that man was just going to tap you lovingly with his—" Arthur quit speaking as Merlin's hand raised in front of him, the warlock's palm dead center with Arthur's gaze. "_Mer_—" the blond began to say.

"_Ástríce!_" Merlin shouted and Arthur felt a body collide heavily against his back, knocking him forward and into his manservant's chest.

Merlin steadied the prince and when Arthur had righted himself, Merlin said, "Maybe we should watch our own backs, yeah?"

"Yes…" the prince looked behind him at the man Merlin had attacked.

"I see Morgause. Morgana is with her too," Merlin said, tying off the cloth on his arm and pointing them out for Arthur.

He nodded and said, "Let's go say hello."

It was easier said than done. Anytime it seemed as though they were getting closer, something drew them aside or back. Either fighting men got in their way and made it impossible for them to get around, or someone needed help and they had to assist their comrades in battle. Merlin saw a knight to his right about to be stabbed through the back and shouted, "_Ácwele!_" a second too late; the knight and his attacker fell to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs and Merlin felt his heart catch in his throat.

"Merlin, come on," Arthur appeared by Merlin's side and pulled the sorcerer along by the elbow. They continued making their way toward Morgause and Morgana, who fought just as well as all the other men. Merlin's gaze locked onto the Lady Morgana and he began to notice that Morgana was fighting entirely on the offense. None of the men of Camelot were willing to strike against their former Lady and would only raise their sword against hers in defense against her blows. She looked flustered and angry that she could gain no real ground against any of them—many men simply backed away until they were engaged by another foe and left Morgana alone. Merlin understood why they did it, but eventually they would _have_ to engage Morgana in combat.

They soon realised that the more they advanced toward Morgause, the further away she seemed to get. The chaos of the battle made it impossible for them to get at the sorceress and Arthur finally had to give up on the hope of reaching her anytime soon. Merlin was still uncertain as to why there was no magic present on the battlefield. He expected to see spells flying every which way but so far this looked like an entirely normal fight and that made Merlin more uneasy than if there _had_ been magic everywhere. He was temporarily pulled from his worry by a large group of people screaming behind him.

He whipped around to find the source of the commotion and saw a group of women running toward the edge of the battlefield. "Shit!" Merlin heard Arthur swear somewhere nearby and other men echoed the sentiment. The women were prohibited from fighting and they had _not_ been happy about it. Somehow they had snuck out of the castle and were now sidling in alongside the men. Many of Camelot's men were now distracted, yelling at wives and daughters to get out of the fray before they got themselves killed, but none of the women seemed to listen.

Merlin made his way toward them, ready to help if one should be ambushed. As he scanned the field of moving and lifeless bodies alike, his eyes fell on Guinevere, battling against a skinny man with a rake. He cringed and screamed, "Gwen!" with intentions of telling her to go back to the castle. She heard him and glanced his way, which left her entirely open to an attack by the man she had been fighting against. He was about to slash her across the face with the rake, but a sword emerged through his chest and he looked down at it in shock. Lancelot yanked his sword free from the man as he fell to the ground and pulled Guinevere toward him with his free arm. He crushed his lips against hers in desperation and Merlin thought it entirely idiotic of him to be doing so in the middle of a bloody battlefield. Lancelot seemed to come to his senses though and pulled back, speaking sharply at the dark woman.

Knowing that she was in good hands, Merlin turned his attention to the other women on the field. He managed to lob one man over the head with a tree branch and tripped another on a root before the ground trembled below him and he lost his own balance and fell.

Everyone seemed momentarily stunned by the shaking earth, forgetting to exchange blows with their foes and looking toward the forest. Many had fallen like Merlin and as he got up people began to panic—not just Camelot's fighters, but Morgause's men as well. No one seemed to have any idea as to the source of the earthquake, but Merlin had a feeling that the battle would not remain magic-free for much longer.

It took him a moment, but Merlin finally located Arthur, a few metres away from Lancelot and Guinevere. Arthur's gaze met his own and the prince looked worried; Merlin felt similarly uneasy, though he tried to convey some sort of reassurance to the blond. That became futile, however, as the ground began to shake harder and Merlin realised that it was caused by hundreds of heavy footsteps coming from within the forest. Some men had engaged in battle once more and others were staring blankly at the trees lining the edge of the woods.

Whatever advantage Camelot may have gained then was erased in a matter of a few moments as varying shapes began to tear their way from the forest wall. Merlin's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach at the sight before him. Hundreds of beasts, creatures, and men that looked like normal humans came pouring out of the forest and attacked every man in front of them, including Morgause's army.

Merlin saw the witch grab a hold of Morgana and disappear at once from the fray—she was leaving both armies to fend for themselves against the advancing creature army. Merlin could barely contain his anger at the fact that the witch would sacrifice all those who had sworn to fight for her cause. He wanted to follow her and kill her himself, but he could not leave these men to fend for themselves. He was brought back to the fight by the piercing screams around him as beasts of all different sizes and kinds attacked everyone.

There were wildren, scorpids, huge snakes, giant beings made of what must have been rock and earth, and men who looked entirely normal but were, Merlin could say with unknowing certainty, all wraiths. The scene filled him with such dread; there was no way that anyone was going to survive this, especially men donning normal swords and armour.

He was right. Men began to drop left and right as though it were the newest fashion. Merlin's hand flew out and he tried his best to fell any creature he could concentrate on long enough, but things were looking grave for everyone. Many of Morgause's men dropped their weapons and turned tail—some made it a few metres before they were torn down by a tracking wildren and Camelot's fighters sliced some of the others down. Merlin saw one man get as far as the outer walls of Camelot before a scorpid stung him and then sliced him in half with its pinchers; he felt bile rise in his throat at the sight of it. He turned with intent to send a killing blow at the scorpid that was attempting to breech the city, but a huge black bird swooped down from the sky then and picked it up like it were a tiny insect.

Giant black and gray birds came from everywhere now, diving from the sky and attacking the creatures on the ground, tearing with huge claws and snapping beasts in half with their powerful beaks. A herd of glistening white horses, each with a single horn protruding from its head emerged from the forest; alongside them galloped a group of half-men, half-horses; their hides coloured in dark browns and blacks in stark contrast next to the unicorns. The centaurs slashed through wildren and scorpids with swords in each hand and reared on their hind legs, kicking wildly at the rock giants.

Merlin fought alongside the new arrivals as best he could, blasting fire at the overgrown snakes and sending gales of wind at the giants to try and overbalance them. Arthur was stabbing wraiths through the chests and knights like Gareth and Bors were slicing other creatures into giant pieces. They now seemed evenly matched which gave Merlin hope for the first time since the battle had began. As Merlin and two black birds felled a giant into the trees behind it, a group of men clad in red and brown flowing robes emerged from the forest, making their way toward him.

"We are here to help, Emrys," said a dark haired druid. He had piercing green eyes and a smile that revealed slightly crooked teeth. "I am—"

"Althalos. Yes, I know," Merlin replied, though he had absolutely no idea as to _how_ he knew that. It must have been the same as other magic users knowing to call him 'Emrys,' which wasn't the name his mother had given him but somehow was _still his name_. It was not exactly important what anyone's name was at the moment, however, so Merlin turned toward the group of druids gathered around him.

"We need to push these creatures back toward the forest and _away_ from Camelot!" Fighting inside the forest would not be to their advantage, but the longer they fought near the city walls, the more it worried Merlin that things would carry into the city. They'd had enough trouble within the walls of Camelot to last a lifetime, so if they could avoid it now, he was damn sure going to try for it. "Start trying to drive them back into the forest. Use loud noises and bright lights—it may scare quite a few of them off. I'm going to tell Arthur to do the same."

Merlin left without waiting for a reply from the druids, but he could see flashes of light coming from behind him as he ran toward Arthur. It was nothing close to a straight shot, with dead bodies and entrails littering the ground beneath him and darting creatures and soldiers in front of him, but he finally made it to the prince's side.

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur asked as he slashed at a wildren who kept backing away from him.

"Arthur," huffed Merlin, doubled over and supporting his weight on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He stood up straight and continued, "we have to drive them back into the forest. We can't afford for any of them to breech the city."

"Where did the birds come from?" Arthur asked, completely unhelpful, like he had not heard a word Merlin had said.

"I don't know, Arthur, but we have to count our blessings. Are you listening to me? You need to tell the knights to use the flash pouches that Gaius gave them so we can press the creatures back into the forest. I think the light and the noise will cause enough confusion that we can take the advantage and get them to go where we want."

"Fighting in the forest won't be easy, Merlin," Arthur replied skeptically and finally drove Excalibur through the wildren's eye—the beast fell lifeless to the ground, twitching some before it fell still.

"I know, Arthur, but Morgause is in there and we need to find her, which we can't if we're stuck out here. I also fear them getting into Camelot; we don't need anyone else to die today if we have any say in it." Merlin gestured to the ground where many of Camelot's men had fallen and gave Arthur a pointed look. Merlin was tired already, even though he knew that this battle was far from over and he had not even stretched his powers to the fullest yet. Seeing dead men everywhere and knowing that more would die before the fighting was over weighed heavily on his shoulders, though thinking too much about it right then would do none of them any good. He had to stay focused.

The prince sighed when he glanced around at the ground. When his gaze returned to Merlin's, he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "Tell me what to do and we will do it, Merlin."

"Tell all the knights to throw their flash pouches at the same time. Spread them out in an arc so that the creatures only have the choice of going back into the forest. Everyone needs to follow them in and slay as many as they can. If we are lucky we can fell many as they retreat, but odds are we will have to fight in the forest. Whatever the outcome, they _must_ keep pressing them back and _away_ from the city."

Merlin looked toward the forest then, his eyes lingering in the space between the trees. The sun was already sinking in the sky, which meant that they would be almost blind when dusk broke. They _had_ to get to the witch before then. "Morgause met us at the lake where we found Excalibur, so I think we should make our way there first." Merlin chewed on his bottom lip before appending, "No, I don't think you or the knights should go to the lake, Arthur. I think that the druids and I should go alone."

He knew Arthur would protest. "Absolutely not, Merlin. I will be with you. We've no time to argue. I must inform the knights of the plan. Let's get these bastards back into the forest where they came from!"

Arthur forced the women to take the wounded back to the castle. They were unhappy with the order, but they reluctantly did as they were bid. The remaining men began to form a tight arch around the creatures—the birds and the unicorns were a great help in corralling the stubborn ones—and readied their flash pouches. Arthur raised a hand and counted down, then all at once the knights threw down their pouches and those who could perform magic made their own flashes of light or echoing noises.

The creatures began to retreat into the forest as Merlin had hoped. The men ran after them in groups of ten, each focusing on a direction or a particular creature. Merlin headed in the direction of the lake with a few druids—some of the others had accompanied each of the small battalions—as well as Arthur, Gawain, Caradoc, and Bors. For the most part, their journey was unhindered. They ran into a few wild boars and some stray wildren, but the area of the forest around the lake seemed relatively quiet, which confirmed for Merlin that Morgause was around there _somewhere_.

They began to creep along as they drew closer to the shore of the lake, looking every which way for an oncoming attack. Well, every way except up, which was where Morgause attacked them. Blasts of fire came raining down on their heads and at least eight people dropped from the tree branches above, attacking the group with swords as well as magic.

Merlin did not see Morgana, but Mordred was there, staring intently at Caradoc and knocking the man back without a word or movement. Morgause appeared after a few minutes of fighting, looking both confident and worried. Arthur had found that Excalibur could block magic with ease, so the man who continually tried to pelt him with fireballs was getting frustrated. Bors was dueling with a man in chainmail—the two of them had detached from the group and were headed toward the lake.

A dark woman tried to sneak up behind Arthur with a dagger, but Gawain had his sword at her throat and slit it before she could reach the prince. She fell to the ground with a thud and Gawain advanced on another sorcerer. Morgause, outraged by the death of the unknown woman, slung her sword in a swift arc, lobbing off Gawain's head in a single stroke. Arthur watched his knight fall as though it were in slow motion; he felt completely unbalanced at the sight of his best knight and a man he considered to be almost a brother, crumple to the ground. Grief hit him in an instant, tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. He began to slash recklessly in front of him, managing to kill the man who was exchanging blows with Merlin and then cutting another sorcerer's right arm clean off at the elbow.

Arthur was certain he heard Merlin calling his name, but he could not focus on the sound. Blood began to rush his head, filling his ears and pumping a painful rhythm behind his eyes. A rage filled him that he had not felt since he happened upon the bandits that were attacking Merlin. He did not think about the consequences, he just charged at the blonde witch and began hacking wildly at her. The prince drove her backward toward the lake until she was standing in the water. He began to tire from the relentless slashing and Morgause took advantage of the lull in his attacks to gain footing and push him back again.

Merlin detached himself from the group and ran after Arthur—he began chanting a shielding charm for the prince, but was hit forcefully in the middle of his back. He lost his balance and fell face first into the leaf litter, pain searing through his back now. _I told you I would not forget, Emrys. Our time has now come._

The small warlock stood in front of Merlin and said aloud, "Get up and fight."

A growl escaped Merlin's lips as he stood, wincing at the pain that still surged through his back. He ignored it as best he could and faced the boy. "Do not make this mistake, Mordred. You still have a chance to use your magic for the—" Merlin was cut off by an attack from the druid, who somehow managed to pierce into Merlin's brain and send a pain so shocking he felt like his brain was being sliced in half. Mordred would not listen to Merlin no matter what he said, so he had no choice but to stand his ground against the boy.

Morgause drove her sword down over Arthur's head, but he blocked it easily with Excalibur. No matter how long he held the sword it never tired his arms—it felt more like an extension of his body rather than a sword. It was a good thing too, because Morgause never seemed to tire of the weight of her sword either. Arthur was fueled by adrenaline now, but his anger would not last forever and he was already tired from the fight so far. He was not sure how long he would last fighting alone against Morgause.

"_Hierste þæt íecen sóna!_" Merlin shouted, despite the pain that coursed through his aching head. Mordred doubled over in a similar manner as Merlin had, only he clutched at his stomach and looked as if he might be sick. Merlin began to charge the boy, but Mordred screamed and the manservant was knocked back almost a metre away, giving Mordred time to recollect himself and ready another attack.

Merlin raised a hand but Mordred blasted him back again, not allowing him the time to even formulate a spell to counter with. Again Merlin raised a hand and again Mordred blew him back, this time his back collided solidly with a tree and the breath was knocked out of him entirely—he crumpled to the ground.

Morgause had driven Arthur back until he felt himself press against a tree trunk. He couldn't let her trap him like this, especially when he was not at his best. He was sweating so profusely that the salt stung his eyes and he had to blink fiercely to clear it away. Despite her calm appearance, Morgause was sweating from the effort of the fight too, which gave him hope that she might tire soon. He watched intently for a point in which he could overpower her but was worried that one would not come.

To his left, he heard a tree branch snap and Morgause made the mistake of looking over to see what caused the noise. Arthur pushed forward against his sword, knocking her backward and making her lose her balance. There was not much of a window to maneuver, but the split second it took her to steady her stance was enough for him to link his sword with hers and twist until she had no choice but to drop her own. He held his sword point to her heart.

"This ends now, Morgause. You have caused enough pain and suffering for my people."

Merlin opened his eyes to find he was still at the base of the tree. Apparently he'd lost consciousness for some time, because he felt light headed and he did not see Mordred around anymore. Why the boy had not killed him, he didn't know, but he did not have the time to consider it. He still needed to get to Arthur. He stood slowly and swayed on his feet; his head felt like it was floating off of his shoulders.

He stood as still as he could to allow his body to settle itself. Unfortunately, that time was cut short by a scream coming from the direction of the lake where Arthur was. Without hesitation Merlin was running, adrenaline giving back the balance he needed to get there without tripping.

Morgause backed away from Arthur's sword slowly, but he kept the point level at her breast. "You're right Arthur, this _does_ end now. _Forbearne! Akwele!_" The witch said quickly, catching Arthur completely off guard. He thought that he was finished, but just as she finished saying the spell, someone knocked Arthur sideways and the blow hit her instead of him.

"No!" Morgause screamed and was on her knees in an instant, cradling Morgana's limp frame. "Morgana, no!" The dark haired woman had a scorch mark in the middle of her chest where Morgause's spell had hit her. Arthur began to stand just as Merlin emerged into the clearing and ran toward him. The prince was still stunned by Morgana's sudden appearance and her now vacant expression.

Merlin looked at Arthur, Morgana and Morgause in confusion. He had no idea what had happened, but he knew that he needed to do something about Morgause while she was distracted or he might never get the chance again. He racked his brain for some sort of spell, but he needn't have, because his mind was suddenly filled with the disembodied voice he had heard the last time he and Arthur were there. She told Merlin exactly what to do and he did it without a moment's hesitation.

Repeating the spell that the Lady whispered into his mind, Morgause was blasted back just as Mordred had done to him earlier. She flew backward, suspended in the air longer than was natural, until she would have landed in the lake water, but her body seemed to catch and was floating just above the water's surface. She was perfectly still, though Merlin knew she was not dead. Nothing happened for a few moments, Morgause's body just levitated above the water, but then the lake began to stir.

A huge hand rose up out of the water, except it was made of lake water itself. The water-hand closed neatly around the witch's body. Everything around them was still; there was no sound from the lake or the forest. Then there was a flash of white light and the water-hand exploded into a million droplets—Morgause's body had disappeared entirely. Dread began to fill him. Either she had exploded with the hand or Morgause had found a way to escape and they'd failed in stopping her once again.

"Do not despair, my dear. I have Morgause now," the disembodied Lady said to Merlin, answering his thoughts aloud. Arthur looked at Merlin in confusion, and after meeting Arthur's gaze, Merlin knew instantly who the Lady was.

"Freya," he whispered, looking out over the water. A blanket of mist rose from the surface and formed into a shimmering blue shape of a beautiful druid girl whom Merlin had cared for so deeply and had lost too quickly.

"My dear Merlin. You have done well," the visage spoke. Merlin felt his knees going weak, his heart pounded so fiercely in his chest that he expected it to break free of his ribs at any moment. Just as he began to slump to the ground, strong arms encircled his waist and he looked up to find Arthur next to him, supporting all his weight. The sorcerer melted into the prince's embrace, though his eyes fell back on the beautiful girl in the lake.

"Is she dead?" Merlin forced himself to ask. It was not the question that he truly wanted to ask her, but he knew it was the most important one.

"No, she is not dead. The lake has devoured her magical essence in order to reopen the passage between Albion and Avalon. In a few days I will be able to open the gate and keep it open for all time, thanks to Morgause's power. She will be using her magic for the good of all sorcery from now on, thanks to you, Merlin."

He shook his head. "I didn't do anything. I only repeated what you told me to." He felt bashful under the praise of the extraordinary woman standing before them.

"Merlin, you have done much more than that. You have shown time and time again that there is good in all magic just as there is bad. Your perpetual insistence to do the right thing for everyone around you—and rarely ever for yourself—has shown many sorcerers the responsibility that we have to make our world better through our magic. You are wiser than many of us could ever wish to be, Ambrosius, and for that we thank you."

"We?" Merlin asked, looking around for anyone else who could be included in that collective pronoun.

"We do not need to see you with our eyes to know of your feats, Emrys. We are all aware of what you have done to secure Albion a brighter future."

There was silence for a few moments while Merlin studied Freya's mist form hovering above the surface of the lake water. He asked, "Are you alive?"

Freya shook her head. "I am neither alive or dead, thanks to your kindness. When you released me to the lake, it enveloped my magical essence much like it did with Morgause, but instead of taking me prisoner, the lake gave me a special task—to watch over sorcery in Albion and ensure the link between it and Avalon is not abused."

Merlin's face lit up. "You're the ruler of magic that Morgause was referring to! You're the Lady of the Lake!"

Freya smiled warmly as Merlin's enthusiasm returned to him. "I am no ruler, Merlin, but a peace keeper. I only work to ensure that magic does not take as dark a turn as it has over the last twenty years."

Merlin pulled from Arthur's hold, no longer in need of the prince's support to standvup. That did not mean he wanted to lose his comfort, though, so he tangled his hand with Arthur's as he looked at Freya.

"When Arthur is king, everything will be different," Merlin said calmly and smiled at Arthur who smiled in return.

"I believe that to be true. I look forward to working with the both of you in the future. Merlin, I must go for now and prepare to open the passage. Please come back in a few days and visit Avalon—it is, after all, your home."

"Thank you, Freya," Merlin said, then shook his head and bowed. "I mean, my Lady." Arthur inclined his head to the Lady as well. After a moment the mist cleared and Freya's image was gone.

"I can't believe—" Merlin began to say, but was interrupted by moaning behind them. He'd forgotten about Morgana! The two of them turned and ran to her side; Arthur lifted her head into his lap and looked into his adopted sister's eyes.

"Morgana, are you alright?" the prince asked her.

"Mmm, I think so. My chest hurts though," she said, looking down at the scorched clothing.

"What happened?" Merlin asked the two of them.

"Morgause tried to attack me and Morgana came out of nowhere and pushed me aside. She was hit with the blast. Why'd you do that, Morgana?"

The sorceress began to sit up with Arthur's help, pressing a palm against her forehead at an unseen pain. "Because I was a fool, Arthur. I should have never listened to Morgause. She's my sister and I…you were right all along, Merlin. I'm so sorry. Morgause isn't evil, she—she just didn't know how to deal with her grief and anger. I'm sorry that I helped her."

The three of them looked up then as someone came out of the forest into the clearing—it was Mordred. He looked at the three of them and then around at the lake, possibly looking for Morgause.

"Mordred," Morgana said, lifting a hand toward the boy. "Please," she pleaded as tears began to fill her eyes. Merlin knew that something was passing between the two of them in the silence, because Morgana began to sob and the druid boy turned and ran back into the forest where he'd come from.

Arthur hugged Morgana and told her what had happened to Morgause. The dark haired woman sobbed even harder and Merlin felt completely useless sitting next to them. Luckily some of the knights emerged from the forest then, so he walked over to them and gave the brother and sister some privacy.

Gareth, Kay, Leon and Lancelot had shown up together. Lancelot had a bloody cloth wrapped tightly around his forearm and Gareth's eye was black and swollen shut. Merlin explained quickly what had happened at the lake, glancing back at Arthur and Morgana before looking at the knights again.

"Where is Gawain?" Gareth asked and sadness flooded through Merlin at the question. Gawain was Gareth's older brother and Merlin did not want to be the one to have to tell him that his brother was dead, but the knight deserved to know. Shaking his head slowly, he placed a hand on Gareth's shoulder and the knight fell to his knees.

"Morgana, I really think you should come back with us," Arthur insisted once again. He and Merlin stood in the small settlement of the druids where Morgana was insisting that she would stay.

"For now, Arthur, I think it best I stay here. I want to become more familiar with my magic and I want to be around those who use their gifts for good. I cannot face Uther just yet, nor do I feel that I can be around you lot after betraying your trust."

"Morgana, we trust you com—"

"You are kind, my brother, and I thank you for it. I would like to remain with the druids for now. I promise that I will return when I am ready, Arthur, but you must let me stay." Morgana's green eyes pleaded with her adopted brother to stop protesting against her wishes.

Merlin put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. The prince looked over at him helplessly and Merlin nodded. Sighing, Arthur's shoulders slumped. "Oh very well. Just be careful," he said and pulled her into a hug.

She hugged Merlin too and then the sorcerer and prince mounted their horses and set course back for Camelot. The other knights had already returned to the city with Gawain's body and were helping gather the wounded and dead. They rode in silence for a while, happy to have quiet after such a long day of battle. Arthur finally said, "It isn't over yet. Mordred will be back for me."

Merlin shifted uneasily in his saddle. "I know. But you shouldn't worry about it now, Arthur. We've won _this_ battle, and that is what's important."

"She was beautiful, Merlin. Freya, I mean," Arthur said quietly, a strangeness to his voice that Merlin did not quite recognise. He sounded as if he had to force out the words reluctantly.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Yes, she was, and I cared a great deal for her," he replied and saw something dark cross the prince's face. "I did not know her as well as I know you, though. I have never loved anyone as much as I do you."

He was right in thinking that Arthur was feeling inadequate, because he looked up with hopeful blue eyes and smiled at Merlin. "Yeah?"

"Of course, Arthur." The prince held his gaze for a few more moments before smiling wide and turning back toward the south and toward Camelot.

\-------

The next few days were filled with grief and celebration. Because they had won the battle against sorcery, Uther was in higher spirits than he had been in years. They did not tell him about Merlin's magic nor did they mention that they had seen Morgana. The knights did not disclose any of this information to the king either, though Arthur had not said anything to them. It seemed that the knights understood Arthur's predicament and were loyal to him as the future king and their leader and Arthur was wholly grateful and truly humbled by this.

The funeral pyres were many within the next few days. Almost 50 men had died in the battle, including three knights. Gareth was taking his brother's death especially hard, as were other knights who considered the man to be like a brother to them. Arthur spent a lot of his time with Gareth, offering his help as best he could. They had not known each other very well in the past, but he was beginning to feel a similar bond with Gareth as he had with Gawain. These feelings gave Arthur a strange idea—he talked to some architects a week or so after the battle and had them begin construction on a circular table for him and the knights to sit around and share in each other's company as equals.

Arthur also wanted to grant Lancelot the knighthood he rightfully deserved. Uther would not agree to it, however, and Arthur was forced to accept that he would not be able to change his father's mind about this and many other things. That did not stop Arthur from gathering the knights in secret and knighting Lancelot himself. Though it was not official and though Lancelot could still not serve with the knights while Uther was king, he appreciated the gesture all the same and Arthur began to love Lancelot as he did all his other knights.

Lancelot remained in Camelot after the battle, which obviously made Guinevere extremely happy. The two of them spent loads of time together and Arthur was happy for them now that he had found a love of his own. He still felt that he owed her some sort of explanation though, so he decided to confront her after a few weeks had passed.

"Guinevere," Arthur began, walking next to the woman in the corridors of the castle. He really wasn't sure what he should say to her, but he'd never feel right if he did not apologise for kissing her and then suddenly abandoning her, especially when she still seemed to care for him back then. Finally he decided to just tell her exactly that.

"Oh Arthur, of course I cared for you. I still do." She was smiling at him and he wasn't really sure why that was, considering what she was saying. She must have read the confusion on his face because she laughed and continued, "Just because I love you does not mean that I am still _in_ love with you. Arthur, I've always cared deeply about you as a friend, long before I thought about you romantically. And I will continue to care for you just as I do for Merlin.

"You have no idea how happy I am for you two, Arthur, really. You and Merlin have always had a special connection, even while you were denying its existence. I should have seen then that it would grow larger than anything you would ever feel for me."

"But—" Arthur started to say. She was making him feel awful, though maybe he deserved that for essentially snogging her one day and then shagging Merlin the next.

"Arthur, truly, I am fine. You deserve to be happy and you should be with the one who _makes_ you happy. I care for you, but I care for Lancelot a great deal more and I'm quite certain that I might love him. That is not to say that you are not worthy of my love, but I—" In true Guinevere fashion, she began to blush and stumble over her words.

"I understand, Gwen. Please don't feel embarrassed about caring for Lancelot. I am glad that you have found someone to love in him. He is a great man and I wish you two all the happiness in the world."

Guinevere smiled at him. She stopped and pulled Arthur into a hug. "Thank you, Arthur. I wish the same for you. I know that when you are king, you _will_ be."

Arthur squeezed her once more and left her to go find his manservant. He had to ask around but he finally found Merlin outside in the ramparts, looking over the courtyard. The prince walked up next to him and smacked him upside the head, a stupid smirk forming on his face.

"Oi! What was that for?" Merlin howled, rubbing the back of his head over dramatically.

"For being a useless idiot, of course. If my father were to know how awful you truly are at being a servant, he'd probably cuff _me_ for keeping you around. You know, I actually do _more_ things for myself with you in my employ than I ever have before."

Merlin pushed him playfully, his bottom lip protruding in a mock pout as he looked at the prince. "You wound my pride, sire. I think I'm a particularly grand servant."

"If you truly believe that, then I fear for this kingdom's future."

"Not as much as I fear for Camelot when they are landed with a great prat as a king!"

"I'm no prat, you great git!" Arthur retorted and trapped Merlin's neck in the crook of his arm so he could tousle the sorcerer's hair roughly.

"No! Don't do that again! Ugh, you know I hate that! _Arthur!_" Merlin protested uselessly as the prince dug his knuckles into Merlin's scalp. "I'm going to make you regret this, you arse!" The warlock threatened weakly, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist and pushing forward until the prince overbalanced and hit the ground, taking Merlin down with him.

Tangled and laughing like a couple of loons, they continued to wrestle on the ground for a few minutes until they decided kissing was a better use of their proximity. The sun began to set above them, the last of its rays enveloping them in its warm embrace with the promise that one day it would rise again with Arthur as the crowned king of Camelot and everything would change for the better, for them and for Albion.

-fin-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is finally it! It took forever, but I've finally finished up the story. I'm pretty happy with it and I hope you lot enjoy it too. I had a wonderful journey writing for you guys and I thank you so much for all your feedback and interest in the story.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this story after reading the miraculous [Easy There](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7197) AU fic written by the equally amazing [syllic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/syllic/pseuds/syllic). That being said, this work has absolutely no parallels to that story, but touched me deeply and fueled my writing fires. Go read it, now!


End file.
